Lost Tales of the Falls
by Liliana Dragonshard
Summary: There are many stories untold in Gravity Falls . . . not just in this dimension, but in all of them. Here is a place where you can look and see all of the past, a bit of the future, and in any Au dimension you choose. These are the Lost Tales. . . .it's your choice whether you believe them or not. (Requests approved! Au's! "What-if" ideas! And more!)[rated T for bloody scenes]
1. Portals, Apologies, and Twins

**Hello, everyone, and welcome to "** Lost Tales of the Falls **", my new official Drabblefic for Gravity Falls! They'll start with a Summary and let everyone know whether it's canon or what Au it is, as well as which Stan is which(depending on Au), and occasionally a brief A/N on WHY I wrote a particular one.**

 **This is** **going to contain stuff from this from my other GF story, "** Of Pines and Forests **", canon stuff from the show, and any Au stuff you guys or I might think of. It all depends, really, on what you guys want, so please send in requests!**

 **But please review the requests in. It'll make it a _TON_ times easier to keep it in order. Please and thank you. :-)**

 **The picture belongs to me, so no stealing! Thanks!**

 **Now, this one is something I just got to thinking about. A sort of "what if" idea for "** A Tale of Two Stans **". I think you'll understand once you start reading it.**

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 **Drabble 1:** Portals, Apologies, and Twins

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _A different turn out of when Stanley gets his "tattoo".  
Ford never ends up in the portal because of it, though he wishes he could've protected his bro . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Mostly-Canon_

 **A`N** :  
 _I just wanted to write a scene where two brother fight "to the death" but one gets hurt, the other guilty, and both try to rebuild their lives together. As a family. Will do two of these; one from Lee and one from Ford's point of view. And oh, gosh-dangit, I want some feels-laden moments with these two._

"You ruined my life!?" I shout at my brother, grappling with him for the journal.

"You ruined your own life!?" Stanford shouts back. He suddenly kicked out a leg, catching me in the chest and pushing my back into the metal desk behind. Then suddenly it's unbearable heat and pain and everything flashing darkly before my eyes and the air being forced out of my lungs as I scream and scream. The weight on my chest disappears, and I collapse against the ground with a whimper.

Everything hurts . . . .I can barely move . . . .I can't even recall what I was doing that brought about this much pain, rippling like a fire through me, radiating from the back of my right shoulder.

Someone shakes me, and I moan softly, trying to roll away. The shaking stops, but now somethings' gripping me hard, keeping me from moving. I whimper when I'm suddenly yanked upright, whatever's doing this holding me by the front of my jacket. I turn my head away, eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Someone's shouting, but I can't tell who, nor what they're saying.

Something hits my cheek.

Not hard, but enough to get my attention and keep me from slipping unconscious right away. I open my eyes slowly. Everything is coming in and out of focus, and I can't make out the face hovering inches from my own. Their mouth is moving fast, words tumbling out like a waterfall. I weakly try to push away, but scream again; any movement of my right arm ends in hot, burning pain.

I try to curl in on myself with a sob, tears starting to stream down my face.

" . . anle . . . .ey? Sta . . . .Stanley?!" the words slowly trickle in.

I manage to open my eyes again with small moan of pain. I end up seeing . . . myself, my own panicked face staring at me. "Wha . . ." I grunt attempting to stand and pull away, but I can't; it hurts too bad.

"Oh god! Stanley! I'm so sorry!?" tears are in the other me's eyes, and he's holding me up.

" . . .sorta jo'e iz thi' . . ?" I slur, again trying to stand. With the other me's help, I'm able to, but I'm still unsteady and swaying.

"Oh god, Lee . . . .I'm so, so sorry . . . come'on, let's get you patched up." He gently starts to guide me away, and I manage to hobble along with him, biting my lip, but these little half-whimpers keep coming out.

There's a pause as we go, something flicking, almost like a light switch, and a humming noise that slowly dies down. I can't make heads or tails of it, though. I can't keep my eyes open. It's only the hand and arm curling around my left shoulder that's keeping me upright and conscious at the moment. Another hand grips my left arm, and I follow dazedly.

So hard . . .to think. I can't even get my eyes open anymore . . . .every movement is starting to ache. We stop again, and there's some noise . . . .I sag as everything goes black.

 **~T~I~Z~E~R~G~B~`~U~Z~O~O~H~**

 _Everything was just fine. Me and my bro were running along the beach, happy-go-lucky as ever. Something nagged at the back of my head, as if something about this was wrong, or incorrect. I ignored it in favor of sprinting ahead of my brother._

 _"Hey, wait up!" Ford called._

 _"Yeah, you should_ keep _up!" I call back._

 _"I-I can keep up!" he answers, panting. Honestly, who wears a jacket in the middle of summer at the beach? Freaking ridiculous._

 _We stop at the entrance to a cave, peeking between the boards. "Woah . . .neato!" he exclaims. We back up a little, sizing it up. "A mysterious boarded up cave!"_

 _He pulls out a flashlight, rambling on about pre-hih-toric junk and gold._

 _When he's done, I joke, "Uh, ladies first." I throw a hand towards the entrance. He punches me on the shoulder. I laugh and punch him back. Ford grabs one of the boards and yanks on it, but ends up losing his grip and falling back on his butt on the sand._

 _I move up next to the entrance. "Good thing you've got your smarts, poindexter. I got the other thing. What is it called?" I barely pause before answering myself. "Oh right. Punching!" I slam my left fist into the old wood, busting a large hole into it that we can easily walk through._

 _I pull my fist back and open it. "Cool, splinters!" I look at them a moment before turning back to the cave._

 _"Woah! It's so creepy in here!" Ford exclaims, shining the flashlight beam here and there._

 _I step inside confidently. "Hey, don't worry bro." I assure him. "Wherever we go, we go together. Don't forget to leave our names so they know who owns the place." I point a thumb towards one of the walls. Ford pulls a Sharpie out of his pants pocket with a grin._

 _I scrawled my name out first, then handed it back to my bro. He used his fancy handwriting junk and then signed our last name in big, blocky, easy-to-read letters._

 _We walked away, chanting, "Pines! Pines! Pines! Pines!" as we went, seeking adventure fearlessly and boldly, ready to rake in the treasure, and one day we'd get all the girls!_

I slowly open my eyes with a groan. I try to get up, but pain shoots along my right shoulder, spreading through my arm.

"Stanley!" someone shouts. I manage to turn my head from where I'm lying, face down, and spot someone familiar.

"F-ford . . ?" I mumble, again trying to get up. _'Where am I?'_

Ford smiles, tears falling down his cheeks. Dropping to his knees next to the couch I'm laying on, he starts babbling out apologies.

I force myself up with a grunt of pain, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Jeeze, poindexter, slow down. Let's start with something simple; where the heck are we?"

He stares at me, wide-eyed. "You don't remember?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Remember what?" I ask, trying to glance over my right shoulder. "And what happened to my arm?" I add. My coat and shirt have been removed, leaving just a bandage wrapped around it.

Stanford glances at the injury with a wince. "It was an accident . . . I'm so sorry, bro . . ." he looks at me with sad eyes.

I take a good, long look at him. His eyes are red with tears and ringed by dark bags, tear tracks marked deeply on his cheeks, hair a mess, clothes disheveled. "Jeeze, poindexter, what happened to you?" I ask. "You look like you've just been through a nightmare."

He glances away. "In a way I have." was all he says.

* * *

 **~G~R~A~V~I~T~Y~`~F~A~L~L~S~**

* * *

"You ruined my life!?" he shouts, struggling to wrench my journal back.

"You ruined your own life!?" I return. I kick his chest, shoving him back. His back slams against the desk behind, and suddenly there's a sizzling sound, like bacon in a hot pan, and he's screaming at the top of his lungs. I flinch away, shocked, and he falls back down with a whimper.

"Stanley! Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, are you alright?!" I scramble to my feet, staring down at the trembling form. The red-hot metal left a large burn on the back of his right shoulder . . . "What have I done?" I breath, tossing my journal on the desk and shaking my brother.

He only moans in pain, trying to roll away. I grip his coat, making sure he won't roll into the desk and aggravate his burn further. I pull him upright, wincing when he whimpers, trying to get him to look at me as I shout his name. His head moves to the side, and I feel a dull spark of hope.

I let go with one hand and pat his cheek. He slowly opens his eyes, the brown glazed over with pain and confusion. "Stanley?" I ask, "Oh god, I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Come on, speak already!" I can't stop the torrent of apologies. I'm interrupted when he shifts in my grasp, both hands suddenly pressing on my chest; trying to push me away.

But he almost immediately screams in pain, pulling his limbs in with a sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Stanley!" I shout. "Stanley? _Stanley_?!" trying and failing to not panic.

He moans again, a sound that makes me ache inside, but he does open his eyes a crack. "Wha . . ." he grunts, confused, trying to find his feet.

"Oh god! Stanley! I'm so sorry!?" tears are in my eyes, but I feel relieved. The only reason I don't hug him right here and now is the burn on his back . . . I need to get that fixed, pronto.

" . . .sorta jo'e iz thi' . . ?" I hear him slur, trying to stand again. I help him, gently pulling his left arm over my shoulder, and keeping a tight grip on his coat, besides. He's swaying, but at least able to stand with my help . . . I need to get him upstairs, and I keep rambling as I do.

"Oh god, Lee . . . .I'm so, so sorry . . . come'on, let's get you patched up." I guide him towards the control panel, quickly flipping the switches back to their previos positions, watching a moment as the portal dies back down. I don't even want to think about what could've happened if it'd activated while we were still out there. . .

A small, pained whimpering sound comes from Lee, sagging against me. I can see him biting his lip hard as we go on. We step into the elevator, and it feels like it's going slower than usual.

"Come on, come on. Hurry up!" I mutter. Lee suddenly drops his full weight into me, and would've fallen to the ground had my grip been any less tight. " _Stanley_!?" I shout, but it's no use; he's unconscious.

I gather him up in my arms, wincing as his body jerks when pressure is applied to the wound. As soon as the door opens, I race out, up the stairs, and towards my bedroom. Gently laying him face-down on the couch, I run for the first-aid kit I have, pausing only to push the vending machine shut, hiding the entrance to the underground lab.

Quickly pulling out some supplies, I pause. I know it needs to be cleaned up, but I can't quite bring myself to touch it and possibly make it worse. Glancing down at Lee's face, a grimace of pain present even in sleep, decides for me.

I carefully ease off his coat and shirt, then gently swab on some rubbing alcohol on and around the burn. I can't help but wince at every cry he makes, but push on with it. I have to prop him upright so I can work the bandages over his shoulder and around his chest.

Afterwards, I gently ease him back onto the couch, face down so as not to aggravate his burn further. I pack up the first aid supplies slowly, and put them away, returning with some blankets to ward off the chill inside this small, lonely cabin.

I tuck him in, making sure he'll be warm, and sit on the floor by his head. He seems to be in so much pain and distress, even in sleep. "I'm so sorry, bro . . ." I whisper, placing a six-fingered hand on his.

I don't know when or how long I was asleep, but I awake from the floor to someone talking. I sit up and rub my eyes. The events of yesterday come back in a flood.

Seeing Lee for the first time in years, showing him the portal, the ensuing fight, the burn . . . .I jerk my head around, quickly spotting Stanley on the couch. I breath a quiet sigh of relief, and take a quick look at a clock. It was around evening when I first showed him the portal, and now it's early morning the next day.

I stand and pop my back with a quiet yawn, then glance back at my brother when I hear him muttering. "Stanley?" I ask hopefully, thinking he's awake.

He was mumbling in his sleep, sweat on his brow, the blankets twisted tightly around him, as if he'd been rolling around trying to get comfortable. I crouched beside him, hoping to entangle him, but his words stop me.

" . . .good thing you've got your smarts, poindexter . . . ." I freeze, silent. ". . . .I've got the other thing . . .what's called . . .oh'righ'! Punching . . . . cool, splin'ers . . . ." he rolls over, face contorting with pain from being on the burn, before he rolls back onto his stomach with a grunt. He's still asleep . . .I can only guess he's dreaming.

I untangle him from the blankets, intent on settling them back on more loosely, when my hand brushes his arm. It's warm. Not just warm from the blankets, it's hot. I lay a hand on his forehead and almost immediately feel the heat. He has a fever. I toss a lighter blanket over him and rush to get a washcloth wet. I gently press it to his forehead, then sigh.

" . . .coolest thing I've ever seen . . . .and I once saw a dead rat floatin' in a bucket . . !" he suddenly mumbles out.

I blink, then smile a little. I remember where he said that before. Back when we were kids in New Jersey, at Glass Shard Beach. When we found the Stan'o'War. . . .back when we were still best friends. . . .

I rake a hand through my hair. For two days, Stanley remained unconscious, running a high fever and mumbling out things that either don't make any sense or make me think of things we did together in our childhood.

Some things make me laugh a little. Others make me cry.

On the third day, he finally wakes up, and not to long after I changed the bandage on his back. I heard a groan. I freeze, then turn towards him. "Stanley!" I shout, running and and bending over him.

"F-ford . . ?" he mutters, trying to lever himself upright.

Relieved tears cascade down my cheeks, apologies falling from my mouth. I'm just glad he's still alive. I realize I've fallen to my knees when he places a hand on my shoulder, and look up, finding him upright.

"Jeeze, poindexter, slow down. Let's start with something simple; where the heck are we?" he asks.

I stare at him. "You don't remember?" I ask. It's the only thing I can think to say. I thought he would hate me for what I did to him, but he doesn't even . . . .

He raises an eyebrow. "Remember what?" he asks, trying to glance over his shoulder, probably to look at the burn. "And what happened to my arm?" he adds.

I glance at it with a wince. "It was an accident . . . I'm so sorry, bro . . ." I look at him sadly, expecting him to remember and get mad.

He looks back at me, looking me up and down. I know I must look like a mess; clothes disheveled, hair wild, and probably a bit too skinny, since I barely ate the last few days out of worry.

"Jeeze, poindexter, what happened to you?" he asks. "You look like you've just been through a nightmare." I can hear the worry in his voice and glance away, ashamed.

"In a way I have." is all I say.

* * *

 **I just want the two to get along. Really badly. And I have a sneaking suspicion that they might not make up until Stanley gets hurt and Ford realizes just how much he would miss his brother if he were gone.**


	2. Lurking Shadows

**Hi again! I wrote this thing up of my own volition! Requests will come next, I promise.**

 **Oc's are in this thing, people, so no stealing, alright? Thank you. Enjoy!**

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 **Drabble 2** : Lurking Shadows

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 **Sum** :  
 _There is something mysterious out in the Gravity Falls forest . . . and I mean more than usual. When Dipper and Stanley stumble into a cursed stream and meet a tiny society of "Monster-fied" humans and "Human-ified" monsters, Dipper thinks it's some sort of crazy dream. They quickly find that this is not the case. . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Monster Falls, just after "_ A Tale of Two Stans _"_

 **A`N** :  
 _May or may not become a separate, multi-chapter fic of it's own. Not sure at this point. It popped into my head and I thought it'd be fun.  
_

Dipper couldn't _believe_ he'd gotten himself into this situation. And yet, here he was. Dangling upside down in a snare. It was a wire snare that wrapped tightly around his ankle, and it lifted him up so high that he was among the twigs and needles of the neighboring tree. Nowhere even close to anything that could help pull him to something stable enough to take a look at the snare and maybe get it off.

All he could do was dangle there. And stare down at his hat. For hours. In fact, he was dangling there for so long, he fell into a light doze. It wasn't until late evening that he woke up with a start. The wind had started to blow hard, and clouds were covering the sky, full of rain.

"DIPPER!?"

The boy jerked his head around at the shout. "Grunkle Stan?" he shouted over the wind. "I'm over here!"

Suddenly, Grunkle Stan was underneath him, picking up his hat and glancing around. "I'm up here!" he called down.

Stan jumped, looking up in shock. He chuckled and sighed. "What're you doing?" he asked.

Dipper crossed his arms. "I stepped on some type of snare hours ago."

Stan merely sighed again. "Just hang tight, then. I'll find where the thing is hooked up at." Stan walks out of Dipper's immediate view. There's some muttering and then an exclamation of triumph.

The wire suddenly loosens and Dipper drops unceremoniously to the ground. From a few feet away, Grunkle Stan says, "Whoops. Sorry, it slipped from my hands." he held them up, and a few small cuts on the fingers and palms were clear; the wire was very sharp, and Dipper was lucky it had tightened around his sock, rather his bare flesh.

Dipper rubs the back of his head, sitting up, only to groan and lay back down again.

"You okay, kid?" Stan asks worriedly, standing over him.

Dipper nods, sitting up more slowly. "Yeah, just a head rush . . ."

Stan nods and gives the kids his hat back, just as it starts to rain. He helps the kids to his feet, but Dipper yelps and would've fallen again had Lee not grabbed his shoulder.

"Think I twisted my ankle . . ." he grunts.

Stan raises a brow. "You think?"

Suddenly, there's a bolt of lightning and crash of thunder close by; the sky darkens significantly as rain stopped sprinkling and begins to pour in torrents. It soaks the two in less than a minute and making it hard to see more than two yards in any direction.

Grabbing his great-nephew, Lee swiveled on his heel and took off in a random direction, not recalling which way he came from and hoping to get lucky.

In his haste, he tripped and stumbled into a small stream, getting both him and Dipper wetter than they were before. Staggering to his feet, Stan glanced about, looking for something to use as shelter.

"Stan, look!" Dipper's small hand points towards a dark, yawning opening several yards to the left. A cave. And while entering a random cave in Gravity Falls could lead to bad circumstances, just standing or running around in a thunderstorm could (arguably) be worse.

Stan nodded and ran, sprinting through the trees. He stepped once inside. The rain didn't reach once you were several feet inside. The cave was much deeper than they originally thought; it stretched away, into inky darkness, much farther off.

Stan took a seat, stilling holding Dipper in his lap, panting. He glanced out at the storm, thunder roaring and brief flashes of thunder lighting up the cave from time to time.

"Guess we're stuck here for awhile . . ." Stan commented.

"Any . . . card tricks?" Dipper asked, trying to be conversational.

Suddenly, a light appeared farther down the cave. Both tensed as it got closer. The light came from a lantern, held by a tall, stocky teenage girl. Her dark brown hair was messy and thick, hanging into her green-gold eyes and stopping just above her ears. She wore dark brown skinny jeans and a dark brown jacket, and combat boots with clear metal toes. She seemed slightly annoyed.

A twelve-year-old boy at her side had long, deep brown hair, sea-green eyes, and wore a tattered pair of shorts and a faded dark blue T-shirt, and worn-down orange sneakers. There was a gap in his upper teeth and he wore a orange-red shell around his neck. He was surprised and worried.

Another boy, looking no older than eight, grinned creepily wide at them. He was surprisingly well-dressed. He wore a pair of black dress pants, a white short sleeved shirt with black sleeves and a yellow vest with a shiny golden brick pattern on it. He had a small black bow tie, a too-small black top hat set at a crazily slanted angle on his head, black dress shoes, and half-messy/half-neat corn-yellow hair that covered his left eye. His visible eye was a pale baby blue.

All three seemed rather surprised to see them, but only the teen seemed not to know them.

"Dipper?" asked the dark-haired kid.

"Mermando?" Dipper replied, squinting, then his eyes went wide. "Wait, do you have legs?!" glancing down at his sneakers.

"Hey, Pine Tree!" the kid piped up, his voice young and a bit high-pitched, full of cheer and curiosity. "Did you and Crescent-Spike catch the Fluvious Flu?" he inquired. It was what he called them that gave him away.

"Bill?!" Dipper demanded, flinching back. The demon-kid practically beamed, nodding.

He waved his hand and a pitch-black cane, previously unseen behind his back, was suddenly visible as he twirled it and spoke, "Lux tuum baculum!" and it suddenly glowed bright yellow, as Dipper had last seen it. In the new, brighter light, one could see what lay on the back of each hand.

Twin burn marks, that looked like the demon as he had previous been(a one-eyed triangle with skinny arms, legs, top hat and bow tie), the legs stretching towards his knuckles and top hat edging towards the kids' wrist on each hand. They were as like as if they had been copied from Dipper's own journal, and looked very fresh; days old.

"Oh, so you know me?" the demon continued. "Do you know where my parents are? I can't remember!" he laughed, a sort-of cackle that Dipper felt was similar, yet vastly different from the one he'd heard before from the demon; this laugh was truly joyous, with no bad intent or ulterior reasons behind it. It also had a subtle undertone of sadness, as if he really couldn't recall his parents.

Stan watched tensely. "What's going on here? Fluvious _what_ now?" he demanded.

The girl tossed her head, her hair flicking up and falling back away from her eyes. "Fluvious Flu; though it's not exactly an illness." she replied. She pointed a strong, slender arm and hand towards the cave entrance, just as another flash of lightning, worryingly close, lit up the cave's mouth, the resulting _**BOOM**_ of thunder making all of them but the girl jump as it echoed and re-echoed throughout the cave, speaking of it's depth.

Bill giggled childishly, though he was clutching his cane like a teddy bear and peeking out from behind the girl now.

"The stream out there? I assume you fell into it. If so, you're either lucky or unlucky. I'm still not sure which it is for me." she looked back at them, with curiosity that seemed a little morbid, with pity, with anticipation, and with sympathy.

Stan only held Dipper closely, protectively, and nearly growled at them. "I'm not going to let you hurt him." he ground out stiffly, though he made no motions as if to stand.

Mermando stepped forward and held up his hands in the universal 'we-mean-no-hard' gesture. "We are not going to hurt you; if you've fallen into the stream, then it's magic is already on you. Look at me!" he gestured widely with one arm, taking in his whole form with one sweep. "I was a Merperson and now I'm a human. _Dios te ayude_! I'm not sure what will happen to you; you'll just _transformar en otra cosa_ \- change; I don't know what it'll be." he finished.

Stan shifted uncomfortably against the cave wall; something was digging into his upper back, just about on his shoulder blades. "So, what, we're cursed or something?" he grumbled.

Dipper fidgeted, too, though for a different reason. His back felt kinda itchy. "So, wait, if creatures are becoming humans . . ." realization and a small amount of horror sparked in his eyes. "Will we become monsters?!" he snapped.

Bill giggled, twirling his cane. "Yes! Monsters and humans, humans and monsters!" he giggled again, smiling that insanely wide, almost-impossible, gleeful grin; though there was no malice in it or his voice, only cheer, as if it were his birthday.

Stan literally growled, gently setting Dipper to the side before leaping to his feet, intent on lunging and teaching that tiny twerp a lesson. When Bill saw the approaching, angry adult, he squealed with fear, real terror in his eyes before scrambling away, deeper into the cave. His brightly-glowing cane gave him away easily, until he yelped out another incantation or spell.

"Non magis illuminat!" he cried out, skittering quickly back towards Mermando and hiding behind him while Stan trailed back more slowly, grumbling.

Bill was practically trembling, and cried out in fright when he saw Stan approaching, cowering and ducking his head. "Don't eat me! I'm not tasty!" a few small tears fell from his eyes, and his voice was wavering, too. It was hard not to pity him.

Stan grumbled some, but it was mostly in discomfort. "Forget it, kid." he muttered as he passed. In the light of the lanterns flame, he looked a mite grey. Dipper peered closer as his grunkle approached, only to gasp.

Grunkle Stan _was_ turning grey, and looked like he was made of stone. Stanley suddenly cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, hugging himself tightly, eyes squeezed shut. His ear grew pointed and his fingertips curved and ended in pointed grey-black claws. There was a set of loud _R-I-I-I-I-P_ 's as two large, grey wings suddenly tore through the back of his suit, large and bat-like, and a tail appeared from underneath his coat. Two small, black-grey horns poked out of his hairline above his forehead.

His whole form shuddered and he seemed to shrink in on himself, whimpering with a voice that was more boulder-like and deep and rumbling than Dipper was used to. Large wings curled around his grunkles frame protectively until the shuddering finally stopped. He slowly looked up, opening pure-gold eyes and grimacing with a mouth of sharp, pointy teeth.

" **Oh, ow . . . that hurt . . . ow . . .** " he grumbled, in a voice deeper and rougher than his own. Dipper half-flinched, scrambling to his feet, despite his twisted ankle, and stumbled towards Stan

"Grunkle Stan!" he exclaimed, half in fear and half in worry.

Eyes widening, Stan slowly uncurled himself, looking over himself in shock. " **What the . . .** " ears laying back in surprise and confusion, he tried to focus on making himself sound normal. For his great-nephew's sake. " **D-di** pper? Did you . . .did you get any stream water on you?" Stan demanded, managing to sound like himself.

Dipper practically flung himself into his Grunkles arms. He wasn't going to let his great-uncles new appearance scare him. He was still the same; right? "I-I don't know." he answered shakily. Stan would never hurt him on purpose; he could trust his Grunkle.

The teenage girl was eyeing them both apprehensively. "Another gargoyle?" she muttered.

Bill's grin was slipping into a thoughtful, fearful frown, worried for himself, and the others around him. He already knew the destructive force of a _YOUNG_ gargoyle; he didn't want to know what this bigger one could do.

Dipper didn't have a chance to reply. A shudder passed through his form. Stan held him tightly, but gently in his large arms, shielding him unconsciously with his wings. There were no visible changes yet, but Stan was expecting him to become some sort of . . . gargoyle-stone creature, like him.

The teenage girl walked up cautiously, eyes flicking over a strange marking on the upward point of the new gargoyles right wing; right where his burn was, engraved into the stone of the flexible, indestructible joint.

"Stan." she said firmly, but suggestively. "You can't guess what he'll become; it's best to set him down and let the changes occur so you don't crush him by mistake. You can comfort him afterwards."

It was blunt and to the point; and her words held a distinct ring of truth to it. Stan slowly uncurled his wings and did as she said. Dipper looked up at him, frightened, a small hand clutching his jacket sleeve and another reaching over his back, scratching at it.

The changes started to become noticeable in the boy; ears lengthening and broadening, brown fur creeping out from under his shorts and towards his socks. For a several long moments, there were cracks and creaks as the kid spine seemed to lengthen, him groaning all the while with his eyes screwed shut, and two thin, bony legs seemed to erupt from under his shirt as his shorts ripped and lower half stretched out.

Mermando and the teenage girl turned away, but Bill watched in fascination and Stan in apprehensive worry; and he couldn't tear his eyes away, even though he initially tried.  
The kids lower half from the waist-down was that of a deer; a fawn; brown on the back and flanks, lighter on the belly, with four trembly, twitchy legs that ended in black hooves, a little puff-ball of a tail, and white spots scattered on his back.

Two ears, _deer_ ears, now replaced his human ears. Dipper slowly opened his eyes, ears laid back and both arms reaching for his grunkle. "It _hurt_. . . ." he whimpered.

Stan gently took him up in his arms, mindful of the strange new limbs, and did his best to hug the young deer-child. He could feel a stirring in his gut, a protective instinct rising up with a growl, daring any to approach and try to hurt his young charges. Stanley blinked, not sure where that had come from, but he was suddenly hyper-aware of the teenager walking slowly towards them.

She beckoned for them to follow her. "We should go and see the others. They'll want to meet you; and there are some that can help you adapt to your new instincts and forms." she instructed; she sounded confident, but was careful to say it in a way that suggested it, rather than ordered.

"It's getting dark outside . . ." Bill added, pointing; and it indeed was. The only light now, really, was the light of the lantern. The demon-child actually sounded scared, hovering next to the teenage girl and hugging his cane again, one burnt hand reaching up to take hers.

" _Si, mi amigos_ , I can promise that you won't come to harm." Mermando smiled comfortingly. "They only wish to help; they helped me, after all."

Stan glanced down at Dipper, who only shrugged, before nodding minutely, rubbing his arms, legs twitching some. He looked up with a noncommittal grunt. "For the night, I s'pose." was all he said. "Tomorrow I'm gonna lay off the beer . . . stupid hangovers . . ." he muttered under his breath, carefully standing and holding the deer-child in his arms.

As they went deeper and deeper into the tunnel, there were little noises of terror coming from the side. " _Lux tuum baculum!_ " Bill suddenly cried out, his staff lighting up again. He was trembling and glancing around, peering into the shadows fearfully. He was clinging to the older girls hand.

"Meesha, if I may?" Mermando gestured for the lantern.

The girl, Meesha, handed it over, then lifted Bill into her arms with a grunt. "It's okay, Bill." she soothed quietly, and surprisingly gentle. "I won't let anything get you." he closed his eyes and nodded into her shoulder, trembling.

And as they went deeper and deeper into the cave, so deep that it smelled of damp and cold and stone, the sound of rain and thunder far behind them . . . . . .

Dipper and Stan spotted a small light far ahead, and heard all the noise one would expect from a household of full of family, not a den full of monsters.

* * *

 **That's a wrap! Depending on how others like this, I might turn it into it's own multi-chapter fic. It popped into my head the other day, so I though I'd write it up.**

 **Here's some translation for that stuff Bill was shouting in latin;**

 **"** Lux tuum baculum **" = "** Light your staff! **"**

 **"** Non magis illuminat! **" = "** No more light! **"**

 **Little twerp can't use magic on a whim now. :-)**

 **Please review!**


	3. Magnus Uncus

**Request from** **"** Aqua Girl 007 **"** **:**

 **"** This is pretty cool so far; can you do a reverse Dipifica fic and one where Bill is the human meanwhile Dippy is the dream demon? **"**

 **Okay, here we go! First request. In all honesty . . . .I'm not sure what reverse dipcifica would look like, so I'm going with the other one. I'll do my best! :-)**

* * *

 **Drabble 3:** Magnus Uncus

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Bill makes a mistake and tries to fix it, but things only start to get worse when a certain dream demon appears. However, things take an unusual turn when he mentions his cousin . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _"Bill Sife and Dipper Demon"  
Not canon at all._

 **A`N** :  
 _I don't have much to say about this. Enjoy!_

Bill ran as fast as he could, panting hard and flinching whenever he heard the, the . . . _creature_ roar and snarl. He pushes himself harder, sprinting the final length and managing -as usual- to trip over a tree root because of his clumsiness and slight limp, just when he was about to enter the clearing the Mystery Shack sat in.

The creature, some sort of winged mountain-lion, possibly a Were(like a Werewolf). He held still as he heard the creature approach, frozen stiff with fear. He wasn't sure where grunkle Stan was, but even so, how could he help him? He doesn't even _believe_ in the supernatural!

The creature snuffled and snarled over him, before gripping the back of his yellow vest in it's teeth, starting to lift him off the ground. There was a girl's scream and thump of footsteps, and suddenly, Mabel was there, beating at it with a shovel. She released it and stumbled back with another scream as it swiped at her, tearing through her pretty blue sweater and leaving five neat lines that were starting to bleed.

"LEFT HOOK!?" screamed a voice; a voice Bill knew well. He was dropped as the creature roared in pain. Bill flipped over onto his back and sat up, observing as his grunkle struck the beast again, managing to fend and chase it off.

Bill looked down in shame as Stan approached. He was in _so_ much trouble. Instead of yelling at him or demanding an explanation, he merely scooped Mabel up, gently grabbed the kid by the shoulder to haul him up, too, and carried both into the house.

In the end, he drove both to the hospital to get checked over. Luckily, Mabel's clawed arm didn't need stitches and weren't as bad as they originally thought, but it didn't make Bill feel any less guilty about the incident.

He glanced over his clothes. A pair of black shorts, a white t-whit with black sleeves, a yellow vest with a shiny-gold brickwork pattern on them, a tiny little black bow-tie scribbled onto his shirt collar(probably with a Sharpie), black sneakers, and black socks. They were ruffled up and a bit more untidy than he usual maintained, from his brief flight through the forest.

He reached up and patted his half-messy half-neat, corn-yellow hair, frowning when he didn't find his top-hat. It was too tiny, even for him, more for a stuffed animal, but he always wore it. Come to think of it, his black curved cane was missing, too. He'd have to go look for those.

A thought occurring to him, he quickly patted himself down, letting out a relieved sigh when he felt the old leather of the journal, still safely tucked away in his vest. He looked up when Grunkle Stan approached, his "Responsible Adult Face" on, and feared the worst.

Bill easily picked up on the whole conman thing, and though Stan would probably never admit it, the little eight-year-old could probably out-con him. When he wasn't be a sarcastic idiot who ran towards imminent danger and laughed about it afterwards as if it were the most hilarious thing or he had everything under control when, really, he didn't at all; that is to say.

But now, looking at the kid, he seemed scared and guilty, possibly because Mabel had been hurt, tears welling up in his visible right eye, that was a pale baby blue color. His other eye was hidden underneath the kids hair, and Stan had honestly never seen it before. And, as far as he knew, neither had Mabel or anyone else.

He finally sighed, deciding to leave the questioning for later, in a more private setting. He knew well enough by now that Bill could be as silent as a rock and good at dodging or twisting around any topic he wanted in public, especially if he didn't want to talk about it.

So, he instead lead the kid to where he'd temporarily left Mabel, her arm wrapped in gauze and half-ruined sweater in a plastic bag. The drove home was silent. Mabel tried to make conversation with the usually talkative and sarcastic kid, but now, he remained utterly quiet, staring out the window and hugging himself, shrugging or making noncommittal noises to Mabel's attempt at conversation.

When they got home, Mabel almost instantly cleared out and high-tailed it to their shared attic bedroom, locking the door. Thus forcing Bill to talk to his Grunkle rather than run away and hide(the kid was also great at hiding and getting into the most impossible or insane places possible; like dangling from a windowsill of a second story building on the outside and _laughing_ about it)

"Come'on, kid." Stan grunted, walking towards the kitchen. It was early evening, and the hot day was starting to cool off a little. He sat down at the kitchen table and waited until Bill did likewise.

The kid hadn't made a sound, not a single jest or even a word, which was not like him at all. Stan rubbed his face. "How about we start with why you were being chased by a mountain lion?" he finally said, sounding exhausted from the long day.

For several long moments, Bill said nothing, staring out the window. Stan was about to repeat himself when the kid answered. "It was an accident . . .I didn't mean for her to get h-hurt . . ." tears filled his eyes and his voice became pleading and thick with tears. "I-I . . .I'm _sorry_." he started sobbing, something that half-stunned the elder man, as the kid often acted older than his age(as surprising as that had been; everyone treated him like some immature, retarded child).

With a grunt, he stood and crouched before his great-nephew, gently turning him towards himself and gently wiping away his tears. "Hey, it's alright, no ones mad at you. I'm just worried, is all. You're still a little guy, and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt on my watch." he spoke softly and honestly, hoping to sooth the child.

Bill sniffled again, wiping away his tears. His left eye was visible a moment, but quickly hidden by the kids bangs once more. "I-I . . .I was just looking around when it started chasing me, honest! I didn't mean for her to get hurt!" it was almost an odd statement coming from Bill, since from what Mabel and her parents had told him, Bill usually ran _towards_ trouble, and if he got hurt, he'd brush it aside and laugh about it as if it were some sort of a thrill ride.

Apparently getting hurt himself and being a cause of pain for family members really _were_ different and mattered to the strange child.

Stan sighed, placing a large, calloused hand on the kids small, skinny shoulder. "Listen, Bill, I now that we may've gotten off to a rocky start, but I just want you to know that you can count on me to protect you and Mabel; alright? If you're ever in over you're head, just come find me or give me a shout and I'll give whatevers bugging you a good left hook and then a right hook for good measure! Alright?"

Bill nodded, a tiny smile worming it's way onto his face.

Stan stood, coughing into his fist to try and cover up his caring words. "Good. Come'on, let's make some hot cocoa and surprise you're cousin. Sound good?"

"Sounds good." Bill smiled, hopping up to follow his great-uncle Stan.

* * *

 **~20-23-15~18-15-12-5-19~19-23-1-16-16-5-4~**

* * *

 **~M~A~G~N~U~S~`~U~N~C~U~S~**

* * *

 **~25-5-20~19-20-9-12-12~20-8-5-25~3-1-18-5~**

* * *

Bill stared up at the demon, clutching his cane nervously, black tophat slanted at a wild(er) angle(than usual) on his head from the previous blast of wind. He looked surprisingly familiar, for whatever reason, with his tousled brown hair, sorta-brown eyes with their golden pupils.

At first, the demon had the form of a blue, flat pine tree, like the image in journal three, with arms and legs and two large eyes that seemed to glare from the page, something akin to a baseball or trucker hat, and a tiny bit of smudged-up markings above the eyes. Now, he could see what lay there.

The Big Dipper, every dot and line perfectly matched up to the constellation. In this human form, the demon, named "Magnus Uncus", looked to be around eighteen-to-twenty years old, with a plain, dark blue suit, black shoes, white bolo tie and the blue and white hat propped on his head. His teeth were sharp, fingers ended in claws and he had pointed ears, and two large, bat-like wings flared out from his lower back, besides the golden, cat-like pupils staring him down within (familiar) brown iris's.

The hat, oddly enough, held a miniature "him" on it, you could say; but without the limbs, eyes, hat or strange birthmark. He glared down at the eight-year-old, arms crossed.

"Look, whaddya want, kid?" he finally snapped, patient clearly disappearing fast. "I don't usually take on this form, but I've found it helps with kids; if you've summoned me, it must mean you know I go easier on kids."

Bill shook his head, gathering himself up, cane tucked in the crook of one arm. "I want help." he finally got out, clearing his voice when he realized how squeaky it sounded.

The demon's frown deepened in thought, and he floated closer to the ground. "Listen, kid, I would love to help, but you gotta tell me what you want _specifically_." he stressed the word.

Bill nodded, quickly flicking over options in his head. Something that would protect him and Mabel during the rest of the summer, but would wear off or go away when they went back home. Something strong enough to ward off most dangers or combat them, but not something that would make the seemingly-mentally-unstable child a threat or some kind of dangerous nutcase criminal.

He finally nodded. "I . . .I'd like to be able to learn some magic, to protect her."

The demon eyed him. "And what will you give me in return? And who's this 'her'? You're sister?" Magnus asked.

Bill looked down at himself. He couldn't hand over the journal, and he didn't have anything else to give. He finally looked back up at the demon. "I have nothing to give, but I want some magic or powers or something so I can protect Mabel; she's my older cousin."

The demon froze, face portraying realization and thought. He hummed for a moment, lost in whatever daydream or memory he was in. Finally, he looked back. "I'll give you a hand, kid, on one condition."

Bill nodded. "What is it?" he'd learned long ago from Grunkle Stan to always learn the full meaning behind a deal and what it's bounds encompassed, so you wouldn't be tricked or forced into something you didn't want or shouldn't have to do.

"Look after her. Protect her. Don't let anything happen to her. Keep her happy and support her when times are tough. Just-" here the demon huffed and paused, then continued. "Just look after my twin, alright? You ever need a hand, just give a shout and I'll channel some of my powers through you're staff there. It'll glow yellow from now on -after we shake on it, that is- when that happens. Got all that?"

Bill stared at him. "Your sister? But . . .Mabel doesn't have any siblings." he replied.

The demon stared at him, then sighed. "In this dimension; no, she doesn't. No one but you. But in another dimension . . ." he gave Bill a long, hard, searching stare that made him squirm inside, though he held still and stared straight back into the demons eyes. "Basically, in another dimension -since demons are able to traverse dimensions so as to speak to one another- I'm just a twelve year old boy, twin brother to Mabel Pines."

He paused, glancing at the kid and then away. "And in that same dimension, Bill Cipher is the demon."

"My name is Bill Sife Rashald." Bill replied, turning over this new information in his mind.

"True, but if it's just your last initial with the rest of that?" Magnus hinted.

Bill thought it over, then nodded. "So, wait, why are you helping me, exactly?" he asked.

Magnus thought this over. "Well, in short . . .the me in that one dimension. . . or in _ONE_ of them, I should say . . . gets turned into a demon, instead of simply being one. I . . .when I focus hard enough, I can remember playing and having a twin sibling, and looking for mysteries and adventure like you are with that journal you found."

Bill nodded in response. This was a lot to take in for anyone, but Bill was a quick thinker and found a way to slide the puzzle pieces together just right. It was still a lot, though; other dimensions outside our own? Containing different versions of you? Woah, just . . .woah.

"Well . . .I just don't want anything bad to happen to Mabel. I want to protect her, but I'm bound by certain rules. It's a demon thing." he added by way of explanation. "Either way . . .even if she's _not_ my sibling here . . . I can still sense that bond. That _twin_ bond. I just have a feeling . . .that no matter where we are or how far apart, that we'll always be family . . . and that it's my job to protect her . . ."

Bill nodded. "I think I understand." he gave his head a quick shake, tossing the hair out of his eyes. His right eye, while baby blue, was the only one that still possessed sight. His left eye was pale and cloudy-white over the iris and pupil, and a large burn mark was branded over it, becoming a pale powder blue, like Grunkle Stans' "tattoo".

It was in the shape of a triangle, with a faint outline of an eye, a top-hat, a bow tie, legs and arms. Something he'd gotten mysteriously during the fire that killed his parents when he was three, and left him with cousin Mabel and the Pines family ever since.

Magnus seemed disturbed by this, but nodded, holding out his hand as it flickered with blue flames. "So, just shake my hand and the deal is sealed. Kid?"

As soon as he saw the flames, Bill had flinched away, a far away look coming into his eyes. He could still remember the smoke and flames of the fire, the burning agony of his eye, and the terror-filled confusion as he was rescued, rushed to a hospital, and then sent to his cousins house.

Magnus extinguished the flames, realizing that he'd scared him, and sat cross-legged in midair, close to the ground. He patted one knee. "What's wrong?"

Bill snapped out of it and turned away, rubbing self-consciously at his eye. "It's nothing." he replied quickly. "Fire just makes me . . . .nervous." he said at last.

Magnus nodded in understanding, slowly offering his hand again. "I can promise you that it is painless and will take less then ten seconds."

Bill nodded, and took the now-flaming hand, shaking it, though he refused to look at the flames themselves.

Bill looked at the demon as he stretched his wings and arms. "Well, Cipher, it's been hanging with you but I've got other places to go." he snapped his fingers, and Bills cane lit up a bright, warm yellow. "You ever need my help, just give a shout and keep your cane close. You can use it to channel my powers. I'll teach you more on that at another time, alright?"

Bill nodded again, watching as his cane faded to black again. I do have one more question, though." he voiced.

The demon leaned closer, smiling a toothy grin, too wide for a human face. "Sure, kid, what is it?" he asked.

"What does your name, 'Magnus Uncus' mean? I know it's Latin, but I want to know it's personal meaning to you."

The demon froze, then smiled again, a small, friendly one. "Well, it translates into 'Large Scoop' directly. My actual nickname doesn't quite translate through exactly. But hey-! Large Scoop, Big Dipper, same difference." he smiled again.

"Wait, like the Big Dipper in the sky and on your forehead?" Bill blurted.

The demon seemed about to anger, then just smiled again. "Bingo, kid. Now, I gotta go." he shifted into his previous pine-tree-esque form, before yelling out something and vanishing.

" _Now Remember_! _ RealityIsHow YouConceiveIt, TheUniverseIsSmaller ThanYouThink, ProtectMabel, BYYYEEEE_!?" in a large flash of light, he was gone.

Bill gasped and blinked open his eyes, glancing around quickly. The candles were still there, though blown out, and the picture frame he'd set up in the center was there, too, his small face beaming out, the eyes crossed out in red.

Bill glanced around once more, stood, and slowly walked back towards the Mystery Shack.

In the bushes nearby, one Mabel Pines and one Soos Ramirez watched the scene, shocked and surprised.

* * *

 **That would be a wrap! Time for a few little fun facts.**

 **-1# I based Demon!Dipper off of descriptions I've heard from the Transcendence Au, and thought it'd be fun to toggle between a human)ish) form and his demon form. In this particular universe, there's a triangle with an eye where the Pine Tree would be on the Cipher Circle(Or, the Pine-Tree Circle, per this universe), and Demon!Dipper's Pine Tree form is in the center. (And yes, I referenced the Transcendence Au in there . . .somewhere)** **That's why he called him "Cipher" at the end there, since that's his symbol on his wheel/circle.**

 **0# Grunkle Stan is acting the way he is here because without Dipper to keep an eye on Mabel, she's a lot more prone to running around and making a not-so-good decision. As for Bill . . . the kid can (mostly) look after himself, but needs more delicate handling to make sure he's alright and well. He's very stubborn when he wants to and doesn't often accept help, since most people think he's mental and bullies him for it. Coming out to Great Uncle Stans place was perfect because there was no one to judge him, but he could still be himself out in the woods.**

 **1# "** Magnus Uncus **" really does translate into "** Large Scoop **". I couldn't find any direct translation that got me "** Big Dipper **", so I used the next best thing. It's in Latin, in case you're wondering.**

 **2# Bill, while still sarcastic and thinking almost getting himself killed is "fun", he has human emotions and is a little kid, as well as being traumatized when he was little, so of course he's going to act differently as a human than his demon persona.**

 **3# My version of Human!Bill is a conman like Stan, uses sarcasm to try and hide is fears and worries from others, and likes to fling himself into danger, since for him it's fun to be able to sidestep whatever is coming at him and escape unscathed(mostly).**

 **4# Related to the previous one; This makes most people think he's nutty, but he's not. He just finds fun in different ways, and possesses a quick mind and can find certain "adult" topics like politics or things that are otherwise complicated and solve or comprehend them very easily in his mind, while he as struggles with seemingly simple things, like squirt-gun fights or tag, though he's so good at hide-and-seek that no one cane find him unless he wants to be found.**

 **5# Bill is deathly afraid of being all alone in the dark, since he's scared of . . . _something_ that'll come out of it to hurt/kill/eat him. He often has nightmares about it, but he can never describe whatever was attacking him. He just calls it a "thing". "A Thing that comes out of the Darkness to hurt me and tries to kill me."**

 **6# Bill dresses similarly to how he dresses in my Monster Falls Au story I'm developing, the main difference being it's causal wear, rather than a suit and tie, and he has tiny, triangular "hims" burned on the back of each hand, rather than his eye. I haven't decided yet if his limp will cross over into that Au, but it's definitely a possibility.**

 **7# In my version of Monster Falls Au, Bill is more like a kid who has little memory of his past, and while he still calls people by their symbol, he doesn't "know" them, nor recall what the symbols mean. He gets himself into a lot of trouble, because h's learning more and more about human mortality every time he almost-kills himself.  
Usually, after he gets himself hurt in a more minor way(broken arm, small flesh wound) he'll start shouting "Not hilarious! Not hilarious!? NOT HILARIOUS!?" in remaint of him saying "Pain is hilarious!" when he possessed Dipper.**

 **Please review and Happy Story Hunting!**


	4. I Won't Let You Fall Alone

**Eh, idea I came up with after seeing this cool comic strip. The link will be near the bottom. But heh, wow. I get to the end of this thing, start editing it, and I realize how this fic practically wrote itself.**

 **Not sure where it came from, but I have honestly enjoyed what my mind produced after staying up for over twenty-four hours.**

 **Hm, I might even have to do a follow-up of this, if enough people decide they like this. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 4:** I Won't Let You Fall Alone

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Stanford's gotta teach his bro how to fly._  
 _But then something goes wrong . . ._  
 _. . . .and Stanley can't save both of them as they fall._

 **Universe** :  
 _Young!Monster Falls_  
 _(The Stan twins basically born/turned into_  
 _monsters when little and it's normal and junk.  
Like most people in the Falls are monsters  
_ _and the world knows and everyone's_ _basically cool with it.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _I saw this really neat and thought-provoking min-comic strip a long whiles back, dug it up, and decided to write something based off of it._  
 _I've just been really in feels-town, I guess. Enjoy!(I'll leave a link on the bottom so you know where to find the comic)  
_ _They're about twelve, so roughly when they would've found the Stano'war. They've only been monsters for a few years._

That morning was quite the normal one for Fiddleford McGucket. He was fifteen and learning how to drive and his father, Hadron McGucket, was sitting in the passengers seat next to him.

Fiddleford was very smart yet very short, besides lanky, leading to much teasing and bullying. However, he was learning to drive, and taking steps so he could get into college and hopefully be able to make a living one day doing what he did best. He was happy that morning, and didn't expect nothing to unusual to happen until they actually entered the strange, monster-laden town, unavoidable in their trip, to refuel and grab some breakfast.

As they rounded the bend of the highway approaching Gravity Falls, however, he hit the brakes hard. There was something on the edge of the road, closer to the forest, but still in the way, that if he had hit it. . . .

"What do you reckon that is?" he asked his dad, pointing it out.

His father was peering out at it. "I'm not sure," he replied slowly. "But it must've cracked the road. I reckon."

"'Cracked the road'?" repeated Fiddleford, turning the car off and hopping out, approaching whatever-it-was curiously.

It looked sorta like a little stone statue, with a tail and wings that were stiff and motionless. If it had, then it had fallen a long ways indeed. For, as his father had said, there was practically a miniature crater surrounding it, the cracks deep and widespread.

As he moved around it, so as to see it's face and not just it's back, however, he spotted something in the "statue"s grasp. Something furry, with feathered wings and a human face. That was definitely alive and breathing, with dried blood on its face and cracked glasses.

Mentally, Fiddleford took a step back from the situation, trying to put the pieces together. The gargoyle -for that's what the stone thing was- had a childs face, and held the smaller(not really; it was the large, bat-like wings creating that illusion), a Were-creature, or maybe a Sphinx, tightly against it's chest, one wing covering it protectively, the other sprawled out at an unnatural angle in it's sleep-frozen state.

There was no visible blood on the gargoyle, but one of it's tiny grey-black horns had a large bit knocked off, the point clearly missing. The wing looked broken, and the face, frozen in it's sleep, looked pained and scared.

Gently shifting aside one of the sphinx's wings (for it couldn't be much else) he spotted a length of rope tied snugly around his middle. Following it, he found the other tied around the gargoyles.

And as he glanced from the unconscious human face to the more rock-based one, he realized how similar they looked. He quickly drew up a conclusion.

Gently picking both up with a grunt, he staggered back to the car. The gargoyle weighed more than he looked! His father hopped out of the car to help him.

"What is it? What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I think these two brothers had a bad fall." he indicated the probably-broken wing. "And we're near Gravity Falls, besides." he added.

Understanding spread on the elder McGucket's face, and he took the two small monsters as his son hopped back into the drivers seat. Once buckled, he hit the gas pedal, going quicker than the speed limit a little in his hurry, heading for the hospital.

"Please be alright, please be alright . . ." he muttered under his breath, sparing a quick glance at the two.

One face peaceful and relaxed, the other pinched with pain.

One face human and the other stone.

Both little monsters.

Both loving twins.

* * *

Stanley looked down at the ground, so far below them. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. His large, grey, bat-like wings flapped powerful on the still night air. Not two feet away from him was Stanford, his face lit up with excitement as he observed their home town of Gravity Falls. It wasn't very far away. They were just on the outskirts of it, hovering above the forest near the highway.

Well, Stanford was hovering. Stanley had to push and strain and flap as hard as he could to remain in the air, due to his much heavier stone-based, gargoyle body. He didn't mind, though. It had been very generous of his bro to take him out to try and teach him these past several weeks.

There was a large contest going on over the lake in a week or so; an aerial race for all the winged and flight-gifted monsters out there. Stanley desperately wanted to join the fun, but he had yet to learn how to fly. Stanford had figured it out ages ago, and he was now helping his brother practice at the time he felt most comfortable.

At night, when his perfectly-adapted eyes could take in and see everything without the glare of the sun getting to him. That, and they technically weren't supposed to be out this late, but it was important!

For safety purposes, they had a length of rope tied around each of their waists, making sure they wouldn't be separated. Not only would it mean that Ford would be able to get to him quicker if he was having an issue, but Lee was able to see everything much better than his twin, who still retained a more human-restricted range of night-vision. Even though the rest of him was furry and he sported a pair of feathered wings, he still had a human face, rather than a muzzle.

Either way, Stanley didn't care. They'd been this way for years, and he loved it! He gave his wings an extra-hard flap, seeing as he was starting to sag lower than his twin, and suddenly found that it was much easier than before. He'd accidentally flapped in a way that just felt . . . better, right, the way he was _supposed to_ be doing it, it felt like.

With a wide grin full of sharp teeth, he tried the new stroke again. And again. And again. Wow! Perfect! Amazing! It was easier to remain in one place now! Less exhausting, and a little less effort!

"Hey, bro, check this out! I think I'm finally getting it!" he called to his brother.

Stanford swiveled mid-flap, scrutinizing his brother before grinning wide, teeth sharper and thinner and pointy, more like a house-cat than a lion's thicker, crushing teeth.

"Great job, Stanley!" he praised, the grin widening. "You're finally getting the hang of it! If we keep this up, you'll be ready in no time!"

This warmed Stanley inside more than anything. Finally, he might be able to win at something other than boxing, which nearly everyone said he had an unfair advantage for, being indestructible and the only gargoyle in the Falls. Perhaps now his dad, instead of always glancing at him unsurely and avoiding him, would be proud of him!

"High six?" he asked, holding out one hand.

"High six." Stanford grinned, propelling himself forward with little effort, one furry six-toed/fingered paw/hand outstretched.

But something went wrong.

Whether it was a larger-than-anticipated gust of wind pushing Stanley forward, or Stanford thrusting his wings harder than he meant too -or possibly some combination of the two- the twins rammed into eachother.

For several terrifying moments it was all just a large tangle of wings and limbs and tails and rushing wind as they both fell, before Stanford managed to shove them apart and tried to right himself. Stanley, panicking, flared out his large wings and flailed them about, accidentally knocking his brother in the face during it.

He froze when he heard the pained grunt and _crack_ of broken glasses. He managed to turn his head, spotting his twin, unconscious and falling beside him, nose bleeding and glasses cracked. He shouted, and, through a strength that comes with pure desperation, managed to "swim" in midair with his arms and legs and latch onto his brother.

Pulling his twins head onto his chest, Stanley clasped his hands underneath his brothers wings. He managed to figure out Up from Down and righted himself, flapping as hard as he could, trying to get them in the air again.

"Come on, Ford, you gotta wake up!" he pleaded, feeling bone-aching weariness creep into his wings, slowly filling his whole body.

The first time he'd felt this was when they first managed to get him airborne three weeks ago. They'd nearly crashed afterwards when his wings stopped working. Luckily, they had been only ten feet above the ground.

"I can't lift both of us!"

Stanley risked a glance down at the ground, so far, far below them. Ford was clearly not going to wake up anytime soon and they were already sagging lower and lower in the air, their fall slowed rather than stopped. Then, it happened. The one thing he'd dreaded since that first night in the air.

His wings locked up, furling in close to his back, too tired to move anymore. They plummeted. Stanley held his twin close, refusing to let go, tucking Ford's head underneath his stony chin. He shut his eyes tight and hugged him, feeling the air rushing past his hair, opposite of his tail that now pointed at the sky above them.

He looked once at the ground. His heart stuttered. He looked up at the sky. He caught sight of the one constellation he knew, that Ford had taught him ages ago.

The Gemini. He held Ford tighter, tucking his chin back into his twins brown hair.

"I've got you."

This wasn't just a statement; this was a promise. He wasn't going to let his bro get more hurt than he had already. He was going to protect him, even if it killed Stanley himself.

He grit his teeth, waiting.

 _I won't let you get hurt anymore, Ford._ he thought. _I won't let you fall alone. . . ._

It felt like eternity.

It felt like two seconds.

However long it was, it all ended with a large **CRACK** and a quieter _snap_.

There was no pain.

Only darkness.

* * *

 **Hope everyone liked! This was originally(within all technicalities) "** minty-draws-cartoons **" idea, and I just turned it into a story. Be sure to go say hello to her on tumblr and take a look at the comic! The link is next.**

minty- draws- cartoons. tumblr post/ 115 457 306 487/ monster- falls- yeah- more- drawings- of- my- favorite

 **Just connect the spaces and you're golden!**

 **I can't help but think that Fiddleford is at least a few years older than the twins. In this fic, he's fifteen, leaving him three years older than the twelve-year-olds. Not sure why he and his old man are in Gravity Falls. Passing through? Visiting relatives? You can draw you're own conclusions.**

 **I might even have to do a follow-up of this, if enough people decide they like this. It kinda depends, though . . .**

 **"20-8-5-18-5 23-1-19 1 19-16-8-9-14-24 19-1-20 9-14 1-14 15-1-11  
** **20-8-5 13-15-18-5 8-5 19-1-23 20-8-5 13-15-18-5 8-5 8-15-16-5-4  
** **20-8-5 13-15-18-5 8-5 8-15-16-5-4, 20-8-5 13-15-18-5 8-5 12-5-1-18-14-5-4  
** **23-8-25 3-1-14'20 23-5 1-12-12 2-5 12-9-11-5 20-8-9-19 23-9-19-5 15-12-4 2-18-15?**

 **20-8-5-14 20-8-5-18-5 23-1-19 8-9-19 20-23-9-14  
** **23-8-15 5-14-4-5-4 9-14 20-18-15-21-2-12-5  
** **1-14-4 19-20-1-18-20-5-4 23-9-20-8 1 7-18-9-14  
** **1 7-1-18-7-15-25-12-5 23-8-15 1-12-23-1-25-19  
** **12-15-15-11-5-4 1-6-20-5-18 8-9-19 4-15-21-2-12-5.**

 **23-8-15 3-1-14 8-5-12-16 2-21-20 12-9-11-5 20-8-5-19-5 20-23-15 25-15-21-14-7 6-5-12-12-15-23-19?  
** **9 11-14-15-23 9 3-1-14'20, 19-15 7-9-22-5 20-8-5-13 1 23-1-22-5 1-14-4 1 "25-5-12-12-15"!"**

 **First person to translate the above can choose any sort of oneshot they choose and I'll write it up and publish it. CONTEST TIME! :-P :-D**

 **Please review!**


	5. The Hand that Attacks the Sife-R

**Request from "** Victorystar(guest) **":**

 **"** Awesome as always! This was really interesting to read :3 If it's not a bother, can you make a story about the Transcendence AU? **"**

 **Hm, I don't know a lot about that Au, I've only really read this oneshot series story and seen some pics here and there online. Would you settle for a continuation of "** Magnus Uncus **"? That has Demon!Dipper in it, so . . . yeah, sorry if it's not what you wanted, but I can be a stinker when it comes to researching new things, putting it off for a long time before actually doing it.**

 **Either way, I help you'll enjoy and accept this offering instead. 'Cause I really, _really_ don't want to mess with someone who has "victory" in their name. *shivers* enjoy!**

 **(Little sidenote, this particular one has a child cursing in it. Viewer disgression advised, if you're against that sorta thing. But in his defense, and who it was directed at . . . it wasn't such a bad thing, let's just say.)**

* * *

 **Drabble 5:** The Hand that Attacks the Sife-R.

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Trouble comes for a certain boy and his cousin sooner rather than later._  
 _And, while Bill should've been more on his guard, he's quickly learning_  
 _that trusting the little white-haired twerp was a very, very bad idea._

 **Universe** :  
 _"Bill Sife and Dipper Demon"_  
 _Not canon at all_

 **A`N** :  
 _Again, I hope this is acceptable. I tried really hard on it.  
Yeah, the name is a pun for the episode "The Hand that Rocks  
the Mabel". I think you can guess how this'll go._

Bill wasn't sure what to expect when he approached the warehouse atop the hill. All he knew was that Toby Determined was a weird guy and he kinda liked weird people.

Mabel was weird; in a good way. If anyone else said that about his cousin, he'd nail them in the face with his cane and punch them in the crotch. Grunkle Stan was weird; he conned people and could tell funny-fake stories, besides teaching Bill himself how to be a conman.

When he finally made it up the hill, he paused and leaned against the door, panting a little as he gave his leg a rest. While he pretended -and everyone seemed to buy it- that he only used his cane as a sort of prop, he actually needed it to move himself around, and that, at the very least, it helped him. He'd had a limp for years, and his leg wasn't getting any better.

He stood, straightened out his clothes and readjusted his top-hat, then pushed open the doors and walked inside. His cane went _tap tap_ on the hard cement floor as he went. It was dark, and that alone made him wary of what was to come.

Something wasn't right here. "Toby?" he called out, jumping when the sound echoed. The place was bigger than he thought. He hand't even turned to leave when the door slammed shut, making him jump a good foot in the air before limping swiftly towards it, dropping his cane to try the doorknob with one hand and pound on it with the other.

Lights started flashed on overhead dramatically, and he quickly put on an unimpressed look on his face as he turned towards whoever-it-was, bending over at a leisurely pace to grab his cane, leaning on it. With the lights, he could see a chair at the far end, and it suddenly swiveled around, revealing none other than Gideon Gleeful, playing with a toy doll . . . of himself.

Bill frowned a moment. "Wow, you're _way_ creepier than I originally imagined. Even _MY_ ego isn't so big that I need tiny me's scattered all over the place." he finished, looking around and taking note of all the Gideon-related memorabilia scattered around the warehouse.

Gideon frowned, but brushed the comment aside, playing around with the doll in his lap. "So, Bill Sife-R., how long have you been in this town? A week? Two? You like it here? _Enjoy the scenery_?" his last sentence was a little more intense and full of . . .Bill couldn't quite lay his finger on it, but it wasn't good.

"What do you want, pipsqueak?" he replied instead, taking on a bored, neutral expression, his voice matching it perfectly. Inside, he was already growing scared, but he knew that revealing that to this twerp would only make things go downhill quickly; or, quicker than it _would_ , anyhow.

"Listen carefully, boy. This town has secrets you couldn't _begin_ to comprehend." his voice held intent and intensity, a clear warning hidden behind his words.

Bill put on a large, well-meant grin. "Oh, really? Hadn't guessed." he suddenly frowned, glaring ever-so-slightly at the older boy. "Is this about Mabel? I already told you, pipsqueak, she doesn't like you! She wanted to be friends still, but you're creepiness pushed her away, you weirdo." Bill huffed a little at the end, leaning back slightly to scowl in disgust.

He had yet to know if he was playing his cards right, but he just knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that he couldn't screw this up. There was a certain foreboding that unsettled him deeply, and he could nearly taste the danger that lay about here.

"LIAR!" Gideon shouted, cute facade broken, pointing accusingly at Bill with his next words. "You turned her against me!" he jumped from the chair and stalked towards Bill, a certain glint in his eyes as he grasped his bolo tie. "She was my peach dumplin'!" he continued.

"Well, _someone's_ upset." Bill huffed disinterestedly, rolling his eye. Gideon raised his hand in the air, and Bills' eyes widened when he saw himself lifting off the ground. He kicked his legs a little, grasping his cane tightly. With a wave of his hand, the crazy, white-haired child flung him across the warehouse and into a bunch of boxes, which were none-to-soft.

A Li'l-Gideon doll fell into in front of him and squeaked. He picked it up and it said "Howdy!" in a cheerful voice that in no way reflected what the real one was.

"Readin' minds isn't all I can do." Gideon said with a smirk, towering over the smaller boy.

 _'No kidding,'_ Bill thought, though he put on a careless expression. "Oh, really, mister fakes-a-lot." he replied, carefully to keep the fear out of his voice.

"Oh, tell me Bill, is _this_ fake?" Gideon asked, raising his right hand while clutching the bolo tie with his left. Boxes glowed and opened on their own, floating upwards as whatever was inside -all of it related to Gideon- floated out.

Bill's eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet, dodging left and right as Gideon laughed madly and flung things at him. Bill managed to always keep the twerp in the corner of his eye -at the least- as he swerved to and fro, watching his hand move; for whenever he swung it about, something came at him, meaning he could use the older childs movements as a way to guess at the next attack.

He even managed to use his cane to deflect some of the incoming objects. All of this simply added to the older childs fury, however, as the attacks, which were previously slow and lazy, like a cat playing with a mouse -as Bill then realized- suddenly became more serious and vicious.

He could barely get out of the way, his leg was now beginning to ache fiercely now and he couldn't make much use of his cane from all the sudden twists and turns he had to make now. A sudden flurry of glass plates or clocks -maybe both- suddenly attacked him, driving him another way, closer to the wall. Bill caught a large amount of the unnatural glow right in front of him, and say the shelf that rocked back and forth.

With a muted gasp, he managed to dodge aside, tumbling end-over-end and stopping suddenly with his back against the wall. Miraculously, he had managed to hang onto his cane.

"I knew Grunkle Stan was right!" Bill exclaimed angrily, no intent of keeping up the clueless, careless facade any longer. "You are a monster!" Bill shouted, waving his cane towards the other threateningly. _'Just keep it up, Sife,'_ he told himself. _'Just keep it up long enough to get out. Once in the woods, he won't be able to get you and you can warn Mabel! **Protect** Mabel!'_ he told himself.

"You're friend will be mine!" Gideon cackled madly, then pulled the string on a doll of himself and it laughed, too; just less menacingly.

Bill grit his teeth, leaped to his feet, and charged at Gideon, ready to use his cane as a weapon as he got closer.

"Who's a cute little guy? You are." Gideon said to the doll, distracted. "No, you are!" the doll 'replied' back. He suddenly noticed the blond-haired child when he grunted loudly, cane held over his shoulder like a baseball bat, ready to go.

He grabbed his tie and raised his hand upwards, catching the younger in the magic's grasp and lifting him off the ground. Bill didn't lose his cane, though he did kick initially at the lack of ground under his feet.

"She's never gonna date you, you old-man-haired, _pale-butt-faced, idiot-cheating- **BASTARD**_ **!** " Bill shouted, completely losing it, glaring hard. He was _really_ going to pound this twerp after this. _NO ONE_ who acted this way was allowed anywhere _near_ his cousin.

"That's a lie." Gideon replied fiercely, a malicious grin growing on his face as he glanced to the side. "And I'm gonna make sure you _never_ lie to me again,  friend." he said 'friend' in a way that Bill knew meant the exact opposite, and he stared in growing horror as a pair of large scissors rose out of the box, approaching the vest-wearing kid, who struggled to move.

To his utter dismay and mounting panic, he couldn't move his arms from his sides, nor kick his legs, to defend himself. His only comfort was the cane held tightly in his left hand, which he gave a small squeeze to try and ground himself. So he could think of a way out of this. For _Mabel_.

 _'Mabel!'_ his mind exclaimed, eyes widening as he spotted her biking up the path. _'If I could stall the twerp somehow . . .'_ Gideon paused a moment when he heard Bill laughing, practically cackling at some unknown joke.

"What's so funny? I've defeated you!" Gideon snapped angrily, continuing the scissors progress towards the other boy.

Bill continued to snicker, grinning as wide as possible. "Do you really think she'll go out with you? After _this_?" he emphasized the word. The scissors didn't slow. In fact, they seemed to speed up.

"After what?" Gideon demanded.

"After she finds my dead, bloody body in your warehouse." Bill replied casually. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he spotted Mabel peeking in the window, a look of surprise and terror on her face. The scissors stuttered to a halt a foot from his neck, and he grinned wide, crazily so, at Gideon, egging him on in an attempt to make him change his mind; or at least to stall him.

"Gideon, we have to talk!" Mabel exclaimed, coming in the door.

Gideon had a surprised expression on his face as he whirled around, and Bill breathed a quick sigh as the scissors, moments away from biting into his neck, lost the magic glow around them, bounding off of his chest and clanging as they hit the floor.

Gideon said something, and Mabel said something back, but Bill was tuning them out in favor of taking deep, calming breaths. He opened his eyes wide when he felt something choking him, managing to flail a hand near his neck, but not actually grasping it, gripping his cane so tightly that his knuckles turned white with the other.

"M-mabel!" he choked out, gasping for breath, panic in his eyes. "M-mabel, d-don't trus-ACK!?" he choked and sputtered for air, trying to get the message through that Gideon was not to be trusted.

Mabel said something, and Gideon replied, then there was a brief rip sound as Mabel shouted angrily. As Bill fell against the ground and gasped for air, coughing, he heard Mabel shout "No, not really! You were like, _attacking_ my cousin! What the heck!" she half-screamed at Gideon, her anger and protectiveness clear in her voice.

"My tie, give it back!" Gideon pleaded, sounding panicky.

Bill stood, leaning heavily on his cane, but managed to backpedal and catch the tie when Mabel threw it his way. He waved it teasingly. "Ha. still a fa-!" was all he managed to get out before Gideon screamed in rage and tackled him, sending them both crashing through the window and off the cliff.

Bill lost the tie, his hat, and his cane when it happened. He screamed in rage and managed to punch Gideon in the face, though not after being slapped by the little twerp.

"You promised! You promised not to hurt her!" he howled at the ten-year-old.

"I never said anything about YOU!" Gideon screamed in reply to the eight-year-old, the two now tumbling end-over-end as they attacked eachother. Bill managed to get another punch in when he realized how close to the ground they were.

Both kids screamed in fear and dropped the fight, throwing up hands to try and shield themselves or just plain closing their eyes to accept their fate.

Bill was the one to close his eyes. Both were visible now, hair whipped back to reveal the cloudy, sightless orb, the brand standing out starkly on his face.

Everything suddenly grew still. At first, he thought he was dead, and felt glad that it had been a painless death. He was now hovering upright in place, Gideon's panting in his ears . . .wait. . .

Bill opened his eyes to find both him and Gideon floating above the ground -though the white-haired idiot was upside down- and looked up, smiling when he saw Mabel, the moon behind her and glow surrounding her making her look majestic and beautiful. She floated down, the magic disappearing around her and landing easily on the ground.

Bill now noticed that, in her other hand, she held his hat and cane. He couldn't help but smile at that.

"Listen, Gideon, it's _over_." she leaned in and said to his face. "I will never, ever date you." her face was hard and stony, so unlike her usual cheerful, upbeat personality.

"Yeah!" Bill exclaimed triumphantly, grunting when Mabel released the magics hold on them, dropping both him and Gideon to the ground. She then threw the bolo-tie at a rock, shattering it in a cloud of teal-green smoke.

Gideon flinched, then exclaimed, "My powers!" he stood, glaring at them. He backed away into the shadows, both hands outstretched and pointing at them. "Oh, this isn't over." he warned. "This isn't the last you'll see. Of widdle. Old. Me." Gideon disappeared among the trees.

Bill stood with a wince, seeing something shiny digging into his bare arm, wincing as the adrenaline wore off and the sharp pain made itself known. He hid his arm, however, when Mabel stepped up next to him, both watching Gideon run off, glancing at eachother.

"I'm creepier than you'll ever be, Gideon!" he shouted after the white-haired kid. "And don't ever forget it!"

Mabel offered his hat and cane, but gasped as Bill accepted them, leaning on his cane and placed his hat on his head. "Bill, you're arms!" she pointed out the sharp shards of glass, blood already starting to drip on the ground from the worst of them.

Bill grunted in reply, gripping the largest he could see on his right arm and unceremoniously ripping it out. There was little emotion on his face; it was blank. Mabel gasped, hands covering her mouth in shock as Bill tossed it aside, seemingly uncaring.

He was screaming in pain inside. The blood began to flow harder on that spot, and he watched it drip to the ground for several seconds before yanking out the next one.

Mabel watched in growing horror. It was the look of straight, pain-free blankness that disturbed her most.

Third. Pause. Stare. Drip, drip. Fourth.

She was frozen, watching as subtle hints of a grin of delight grew on her little cousins face.

Eighth. Snicker. Stop. Snicker again. Drip, drip. Drip, drip. Eleventh.

As he began to chuckle gleefully, holding the twelfth and final piece in his hand, blood already staining it, he tossed it away and chuckled harder. "Hilarious." he got out between laughs. "Just plain hilarious." he snickered again, eyes opening to find Mabel staring at him in utter horror.

His laughter stopped at once. His grin fell, and dead-serious worry and concern filled him. He tucked his injured right limb in close, cane grasped tightly to his chest over it, looking uncertain and scared, pain clear in his baby-blue eye, drawn-together eyebrows, and pressed lips as he glanced at Mabel and then away.

Mabel snapped out of it and stepped forward and gently pulled his hurt arm free, hissing in sympathy as she observed the several small wounds, some deeper than others and sure to scar. She pulled her sweater off and wrapped it around the injured limb, as tightly as she dared, half-worried and half-satisfied to hear a small whimper and see the wince her cousin gave to it.

It was _lots_ better than him laughing about the pain, or the blankness of expression before that. She gently picked him up, holding him princess-style in her arms, carrying him away.

"I'm sorry . . ." Bill said softly.

Mabel barely caught the words. "It's alright." she tried to assure him. "You're safe, I'm safe. We just need to get Grunkle Stan to bandage you up when we get home." she carefully readjusted her grip on him. The small child didn't weigh very much compared to her, and was a little smaller than Gideon, besides. It was easy to carry him.

Bill closed his eyes, huffing. "No, it's not." he told her. "I made you scared . . .scared of _me_." tears began to pool in his eyes. "And that's _not_ okay . . ." he whispered.

Mabel frowned in thought. "Why _were_ you laughing?" Bill flinched at the idea. "It's okay. If you talk about, maybe you'll feel better; plus, I'll know what's going on next time and won't be as worried. And besides, I'm worried _for_ you, not scared _of_ you." she finished with a braces-filled smile.

Bill took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Well, I was trying to think of something funny, to distract myself from the pain. It was the look on Gideon's face when I called him this one name, right before spotting you biking up the hill. I wanted to think of something pleasant, or better, because my arm hurt so bad. . . ." he trailed off, closing his eyes again.

Mabel hummed in thought, nodding slowly. "That makes sense." she smiled wide. "And that's okay; it's a way for you to cope, a special way that helps you work through the pain!"

Bill grinned at her, opening his eyes. "Alrighty, then." he replied. "After I get fixed up, can we make some hot-cocoa?" he asked. Mabel cheered in response, speeding up as Bill laughed happily.

He then broke off short and gained a half-scared expression, turning to bury his face into Mabels shirt to hide his sudden bout of tears at the thought as he mumbled something out.

"What was that?" Mabel asked quietly. Bill hardly ever cried, and then it was usually because he'd woken up from a nightmare.

He glanced at his bloody, sweater-bound arm before repeating it, and Mabel knew exactly why.

"Don't tell Stan."

* * *

"Heh. I coulda had it all." Stan sighed, before turning back to the kids sat in his armchair. He quickly took note of the bandages wrapping tightly around both of Bill's arms, as well as some blood evident on the kids clothes, besides some bruises and scuff marks here and there. Mabel appeared unscathed. Both seemed exhausted and glum.

"What the heck happened to you two?" he asked, concerned.

"Gideon." Mabel replied.

"Gideon." Bill echoed, his usual grin gone in replace of a tired, pained frown.

" _Gideon_." grumbled Stan, cracking open a Pitt soda and going over to sit on the T-Rex skull next the chair. "The little mutant swore vengeance on the whole family." he paused to snicker. "I guess he's going to nibble my ankles or something.

Bill immediately grinned, though it wasn't near as wide as usual, giggling at the idea. "Well, I can nibble HIS ankles! And besides, we destroyed his powers! What's he gonna do? Try and guess what number we're thinking of?" he giggled again.

"He'll _never_ guess what number I'm thinking of;  negative eight! No one would guess a _negative_ number!" Mabel exclaimed next to her cousin.

They all laughed about that, Bill perking up to smile at his cousin, sitting up a little and managing to ignore the deep ache in his arms. They hadn't found any good pain meds for him to take. Something to ask Stan later. But for now, he remained quiet and covered up the pain with not only his laughter, but the laughter of his family, too.

"Oooh, look out!" Stan mocked, still laughing with them, pulling them both closer to him with one arm. "I bet he's planning our destruction right now!" he pushed himself over the edge of the armrest and landed on top of the smaller two, all three still laughing their hearts out at the silliness of it.

Bill couldn't help but feel a clear, distinct twinge of worry, however. Gideon had seemed dead-serious about getting revenge on them. And, however he found that amulet, whether he stumbled across it or found it somewhere after learning about it, then he'd probably -definitely- be able to find a better replacement and get back at them.

A worried, thoughtful frown slipped onto his face and his laughter petered off. Grunkle Stan finally climbed off of them, still chuckling, but it broke off when he saw the younger kids expression. It wasn't his usual super-wide, excited grin. He was frowning, and the look never really fit right on the young blonde-haired boys face.

"Hey, what's up with you?" Stan grunted, trying to hide that he cared.

Bill looked up in surprise, then grinned wide. "Well, I scraped up my arms right-good earlier and Mabel promised we'd make hot cocoa with you!" he said cheerfully, but with clear notes of disappointed sadness. He made a bit of a pleading, hopeful face up at Stan and shaking his right arm in above the ground. "But you weren't here! Could you please . . ?" the kid begged.

Stan made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. "Fine, you little gremlin." he grunted, sounding less-than-pleased, but he slapped on a grin and scooped the child up, which Bill giggled over, and walked towards the kitchen, Mabel following quickly after them, pausing only to grab her younger cousins dropped hat and temporarily forgotten cane.

* * *

 **Done! Woah! Over four-thous-and words! I've outdone myself!**

 **Again, I hope y'all liked this. I based it off of the episode "** The Hand That Rocks the Mabel **", in terms of some dialogue and events. I hope I got it accurate enough, yet that it was enough of a twist for you all at the end! Please review!  
**

 **"RMQFIVW, YFIMVW, ZH Z BLFMT XSROW  
** **GSLFTSG GL YV XIZAB MLMV~GL~NROW  
** **KZHHVW UILN WLXGLI GL WLXGLI ULI SRH JFRIPH  
** **YFG MLGSRMT VEVI HVVNVW GL WL GSV DLIPH.**

 **YFOORVH ZMW QVIPH GL GLINVMG ZMW GZFMG  
** **ZMW SV WRW SRH YVHG GL RTMLIV GSV QZFMGH  
** **QVIP~GZFMGH, QVIPSVZWH, SV KIVEZROVW GSILFTS  
** **FMGRO SV NVG GSV XLMNZM SRH KZIVMGH PMVD. . .**

 **UILN SRN, SV OVZIMVW GL IVKORXZGV  
** **ZMW SRWV SRH VNLGRLMH UILN GSLHV SV SZGVH,  
** **YFG MLD SV SZH VEVM NLIV GL SRWV  
** **ZMW Z XVIGZRM VMVNB SRH ZGGZXP DROO YRWV."**

 **Sorry, guest reviewer** "Candymouse22", **but you didn't exactly pick a topic, but kudos to figuring it out and suffering through the decoding of my nonsense! He's a new one for you guys to solve! Same stakes as before! You win, you pick any kind of oneshot idea/topic! Your choice what I exploit!**

 **And, here's what the last one was, for those who weren't sure;**

 **"** THERE WAS A SPHINX SAT IN AN OAK  
THE MORE HE SAW THE MORE HE HOPED  
THE MORE HE HOPED, THE MORE HE LEARNED  
WHY CAN'T WE ALL BE LIKE THIS WISE OLD BRO?

THEN THERE WAS HIS TWIN  
WHO ENDED IN TROUBLE  
AND STARTED WITH A GRIN  
A GARGOYLE WHO ALWAYS  
LOOKED AFTER HIS DOUBLE.

WHO CAN HELP BUT LIKE THESE TWO YOUNG FELLOWS?  
I KNOW I CAN'T, SO GIVE THEM A WAVE AND A "YELLO"! **"**


	6. Dealing with Different Dimensions, Pt 1

**Hn, no exact Au title to this. Just an idea I had and wanted to get out on here. I have a lot of ideas, but I also wanna hear you-guyses ideas, as well!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **)Edit: Okay, I finally figured out how stuff is going to go down now. Sorry for those that sorta-liked th first version, but I wrote it while extremely sleep-deprived and therefore it didn't turn out at it'd best. So, I'm just gonna hope you like this and won't try to kill. Besides, if you kill me, who will continue and finish these for y'all? Point proven.(**

* * *

 **Drabble 6:** Dealing with Different Dimensions, Pt. 1

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _When dimensions spring hay-wire and cross with one another because of the resulting blast of energy from the portal, a very scared and vaguely-familiar blonde-haired little boy is carried out of the portal with . . .someone. Someone familiar. Who are they? What happened? And why are they so scared of Dipper?_

 **Universe** :  
 _Bill Sife-R., crossed with Canon_  
 _(More of a what-is sitch more than anything_  
 _I'm honestly falling in love with little Human!Bill's_  
 _Design. Can't get enough of him!)_

 **A`N** :  
 _So, I'm perusing tumblr for inspiration(since no one has sent in any other requests)  
and I thought I'd just draw up a quick sappy-feely one. No clue yet what it's about,  
I'm sorta making it up as I go along. No idea how this'll  
turn it, it's a disconnected(from any specific timeline),  
brand-new experiment. But hey, isn't most writing that, anyway?_

It was night. The portal now seemed dead and lifeless.

Stanford wasn't so sure.

Occasionally, readings would suddenly spike, randomly, and with there seeming to be no cause at all.

That's what alarmed him. There seemed to be no cause, yet it kept happening. The biggest that something beyond his reasoning and logic was the fuel meter; it would occasionally spike high, sometimes halfway, sometimes three quarters of the way to full, even though there was no more fuel to speak of at all. He wasn't sure what to expect anymore.

By the fifth night of this, the fuel meter leapt to full; the portal sparked, despite it's damaged state. Pebbles started to float upwards, as well as other things. Ford raced, checking dials and typing in shutdown codes into the master network of the computer system tied to the portal, trying to stop whatever was happening. The gravity returned to normal; there was a miniature flash from the portal, and suddenly, two figures tumbled through.

Ford gawked from behind the glass, watching as the portal sparked once more before the blue glow went out completely, dead once more. First one, then the other stood. The taller steadied the smaller, finally scooping them up as they tripped, before slowly heading towards the door.

Shaking himself, Ford moved over and blocked the doorway. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" he demanded.

The taller jumped, nearly dropping the other, who cursed profusely under his breath with a wide variety of nasty words that Ford was sure would make even Lee blush.

"Gr-grunkle Ford?" the taller asked in disbelief and hope. It was a female voice, and a quick glance in the dim light revealed a long, purple skirt or dress, a brightly-colored sweater covering her arms, and a dark blue cloak with a hood on her head, the settled around her shoulders and hiding the rest of her attire.

The younger was decidedly male, with black pants, black t-shirt covered by a yellow vest with a black brickwork pattern traced from the edge of the ribs down, black sneakers and socks, a small black bow-tie, and a similar cloak that was dark green with splashes of deep brown here and there. It was clear why he was being carried.

One leg was hanging at a twisted angle, little bits of blood dripping from the half-shredded pant-leg.

Ford took this all in within a few seconds. "How do you know my name?" he asked guardedly.

The young woman appeared hurt by this question, but the boy, perhaps around fourteen or fifteen, piped up in a strained, irritated voice. "We were warned; we were told we might end up in the past of a different dimension; did you listen? _No_! Are we in the past of our own dimension? _No_! We're stuck in a place we don't know or understand with people who'll just as likely kill us as help, just like back 'home'! So how about it, Mabes, wanna go home now? TOO LATE!"

The boy barked out a dry, sarcastic laugh, lacking all humor and sounding rather bitter. "Now, we're stuck here, and we can't ever go back!" this time, his voice was thick with tears, and he began to sob, curling in on himself.

The woman gave Ford a pleading look as she held the teen closer, hugging him to her torso. "Please," she begged, voice suddenly familiar somehow. "Can't you at least help patch us up? We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning, night, whatever time it is, but please. We need some help." her eyes, just visible, were big and round and starting to fill with tears.

Ford nodded mutely, beckoning for them to follow him. The woman walked right past him, glancing around with recognition flashing in her eyes, going straight for the elevator as if she owned the place.

Or knew it like the back of her hand.

They stepped inside the elevator, the woman humming quietly under her breath with a tune that felt familiar.

As the elevator carried them higher, then up the stairs and into the kitchen, even as Ford hushed them both and searched for the first0aid kit, the two softly sang the same familiar tune under their breaths.

" _~Hello darkness, my old friend,_  
 _I've come to talk with you again,_  
 _Because a vision softly creeping,_  
 _Left its seeds while I was sleeping,_  
 _And the vision that was planted in my brain_  
 _Still remains_  
 _Within the sound of silence.~_ " the woman sang first.

" _~In restless dreams I walked alone_  
 _Narrow streets of cobblestone,_  
 _'Neath the halo of a street lamp,_  
 _I turned my collar to the cold and damp,~_ " the teen picked up, before they joined together in song.

" _~When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light  
_ _That split the night  
_ _And touched the sound of silence._

 _And in the naked light I saw_  
 _Ten thousand people, maybe more._  
 _People talking without speaking,_  
 _People hearing without listening,_  
 _People writing songs that voices never share_  
 _And no one dared_  
 _Disturb the sound of silence.~_ " a pause, and the boy carried on alone for a piece.

" _~"Fools," said I, "You do not know._  
 _Silence like a cancer grows._  
 _Hear my words that I might teach you._  
 _Take my arms that I might reach you."_  
 _But my words like silent raindrops fell_  
 _And echoed in the wells of silence. . .~_ " he dropped off into a bare whisper, eyes tearing up.

" _~And the people bowed and prayed,~_ " the woman picked up,

" _~To the neon god they made.~_ " he returned, strangely bitter.

" _~And the sign flashed out its warning_  
 _In the words that it was forming.~_ " they sang together.

" _~And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls_  
 _And tenement halls.~_ " the teen sang alone once more, before they finished together.

" _~And whispered in the sounds of silence."~_ " they trailed off, apparently finished.

Ford brought over the first-aid kit he'd found and set it on the kitchen table, opening it up and beginning to rifle through it. "That sounded familiar." he mentioned off-handedly, pulling out a roll of gauze and some disinfectant.

The boy nodded, now sitting in a chair at the table, the girl standing just behind him. " _'The Sound of Silence'_. Simon and Garfunkel." he replied evenly, the pain leaking through his voice.

Ford paused, thinking. "How old are you two?" he asked, pulling out a tiny pair of scissors and a bottle of painkillers. "That song was popular in the sixties or seventies. Where'd you hear it?"

The woman seemed about to answer, but the teen shifted slightly and cried out in pain, interrupting her. Ford sighed and crouched next to him. "Where are you hurt?" he asked.

The boy pulled up his right pant leg, revealing four long, deep marks that were oozing blood. Ford sucked in a quick breath at the sight, but went about disinfecting it and wrapping it up as tightly as he could. The boy hissed quietly in pain and bit his lip, but didn't cry out again.

When Ford finished, the lad stopped him from putting anything up. "Her arm." he nodded to the woman. She seemed about to protest, but took a seat in the other chair, removed her cloak entirely, and pulled off her sweater.

She had long brown hair down in a simple braid down her back, and brown eyes, and a face that seemed so, so familiar, of only Ford could remember where from. On her arm was a sloppily-made bandage, and when he unwound it, he found a large gash, about as big as his hand, on her shoulder. It, too, he cleaned up and disinfected, wrapping it up tightly in fresh bandages.

She winced and whimpered and yelped, trying to refrain from wriggling as he did so. When he was done, she stood slowly and carefully stretched her arms. Then, she pulled her sweater back on, then the cloak, though she didn't pull the hood back up.

The boy sat up a little straighter, and shoved off his head, revealing a head full of tousled corn-yellow hair, his right, baby-blue eye visible, and a small grin on his face.

"We heard that song from our two grunkles, Stan and Stan." he replied, grinning wide, almost too wide for a human face, yet somehow pulling it off. "When we were down in the Last Woods before the Swift March, you and Grunkle Lee taught us the song. It really reflected a part of our mission; it gave us hope where we needed it, and helped us to fight when we most needed to rally up and not hold back to win the battle. . . ." he trailed off, visible eye widening and filling with tears, a small, pale hand reaching up to touch his left eye, still unseen beneath his messy locks.

The woman placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling tearily. "It's alright, Bill." she comforted, though Ford bristled at the name. "It's alright. Like you said earlier, this is a new place, and we might be able to change things for the better should they repeat."

"Bill?" Ford demanded, eyeing them warily.

The woman nodded. "My name is Mabel Pines, and this is my younger cousin Bill Sife Rashald, or Sife-R. to most of the other troops. Best strategist and spy anyone could ask for." she sniffed a little, using one hand to quickly swipe at her eyes, getting rid of any tears.

Ford scowled. "'Bill Sife R.'? As in Bill Cipher? The dream demon?!" he demanded, backing up slightly.

Bill flinched and Mabel tensed. "No, not Bill; Magnus Uncus and Gideon are the demon and the demon- _possessed_. We've been fighting him with the other rebels since I was sixteen and Bill here was twelve."

"We were told to go through the portal to escape before they arrived. We weren't sure whether or not we were diving into something even worse than what we were leaving behind." Bill continued for her, staring at Ford with half pleading, half scared eyes.

"Bill is a demon here." Ford replied stubbornly, trying to think of what to do.

Mabel frowned. "Here, and for you; yes, perhaps there is a demon of that name. But in _OUR_ dimension, Bill is just a kid dragged into a war he didn't have to fight in, yet he did so anyway. We've both been hurt . . ." she trailed off, tears starting to cascade down her cheeks as she let out a hiccuping sob.

"I thought you'd be proud of us . . . you and Lee were the leaders of our group . . . you made me and Mabel the back-up leaders, just in case. . . . we never thought we'd ever have to . . . ." tears were falling from his own eyes now, but he carried on in a half-choked, pleading voice.

"We never thought we'd have to take your place . . . ."

* * *

 **An idea that occurred. If the portal connects to different dimensions, who's to say it won't connect to the one where we have Magnus Uncus and Bill Sife-R. with his older cousin Mabel staying at the Mystery Shack? And then . . . this happened.**

 **The song is "** The Sound Of Silence **" by "** SIMON & GARFUNKEL **". I thought it'd be fun.**

 **"RMQFIVW, YFIMVW, ZH Z BLFMT XSROW  
** **GSLFTSG GL YV XIZAB MLMV~GL~NROW  
** **KZHHVW UILN WLXGLI GL WLXGLI ULI SRH JFRIPH  
** **YFG MLGSRMT VEVI HVVNVW GL WL GSV DLIPH.**

 **YFOORVH ZMW QVIPH GL GLINVMG ZMW GZFMG  
** **ZMW SV WRW SRH YVHG GL RTMLIV GSV QZFMGH  
** **QVIP~GZFMGH, QVIPSVZWH, SV KIVEZROVW GSILFTS  
** **FMGRO SV NVG GSV XLMNZM SRH KZIVMGH PMVD. . .**

 **UILN SRN, SV OVZIMVW GL IVKORXZGV  
** **ZMW SRWV SRH VNLGRLMH UILN GSLHV SV SZGVH,  
** **YFG MLD SV SZH VEVM NLIV GL SRWV  
** **ZMW Z XVIGZRM VMVNB SRH ZGGZXP DROO YRWV."**

 **Sorry, guest reviewer** "Candymouse22", **but you didn't exactly pick a topic, but kudos to figuring it out and suffering through the decoding of my nonsense! He's a new one for you guys to solve! Same stakes as before! You win, you pick any kind of oneshot idea/topic! Your choice what I exploit!  
** **(This is the same as in the last chapter; hurry up, you guys! *playful laughter*)**


	7. Will You Stay With Us?

**Back again! And with more Little Monsters!Au for your entertainment.**

 **Ford is still a poindexter who simply loves mystery -though he edges towards conspiracies a little more- even though he's practically surrounded by the supernatural, Ford loves his bro but can be pretty annoyed at having to save his butt from stuff, being indestructible, and Fidds. . . .**

 **Well, the twins like him. All three of them have never had friends(excluding the twins, they have eachother) so having someone to talk to about stuff is nice. I just get the feeling that Fidds saw mysteries as intriguing before, only really became interested in the supernatural after meeting/saving the twins on the highway. And that afterwards, they only stayed at the hospital long enough to ensure the two had parents that were coming for them.  
** **As in, it was a pretty big impression on him anyways, despite not learning one anothers names and the like.**

 **Consider this a springboard for specific stuff, like them finding the size-altering crystals or the cave behind the waterfall or other things over the summer. This is going to become a pretty nice little Story-Arc, don'ta think? Please send in ideas for things to happen next!**

* * *

 **Drabble 7:** Will You Stay With Us?

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _In the aftermath of "I Won't Let You Fall Alone", Fiddleford finds himself drawn  
back to the strange little town that very next summer. There's something about it  
that he can't help but enjoy. Is it the strange residents? The peace  
and quiet of the woods? Or the two young, excitable twins he rescued?_

 **Universe** :  
 _Young!Monster Falls_  
 _(The Stan twins basically born/turned into_  
 _monsters when little and it's normal and junk.  
Like most people in the Falls are monsters  
_ _and the world knows and everyone's_ _basically cool with it.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _No slash. More of a big brother/younger brothers sorta thing. And besides - after seeing a  
town like that, who can help but become intrigued? Besides that, I'm pretty sure  
everyone was worried over what happened to Ford and Lee after their crash-landing._

Fiddleford knew he should be looking for a job, come summer. He wasn't quite sixteen, and technically he didn't have a license so he couldn't drive, but his plan had seemed quite good and well-thought-out back home. Go out of town -and state!- to find a job and perhaps a little bit of adventure, live off his own cash for a bit and then use his reserve money -or whatever he managed to save- for the bus ticket back home. Easy, simple, and perhaps a bit of fun, besides a taste of adult life.

Now, standing at the bus stop in Gravity Falls, Oregon, the teenager felt rather lost. He wasn't sure where he should go, or where to turn to. He'd found little info on the town, besides some stuff about the resident monsters and not to go in the woods alone, especially at night. And, besides two or three good books on various monsters, he wasn't sure what he would encounter here.

And, from meeting two young monsters who reacted far different than anything he read in his books, it was clear that a human _turned_ into a monster was very different from one _born_ as a monster, not just in behavior but in appearance, as well. Though the books still held some pretty interesting facts that turned out to be true, and others that he had yet to see.

Glancing around one more time, Fiddleford re-shouldered his backpack and picked up his suitcase, deciding to at least find a place where he could ask about stuff like this. Maybe a restaurant or diner; in such a small town, people were likely to know nearly everyone else in town. It had been not four months since he had last been here.

Even so, he looked about in wonder-filled delight. He soon found a place called "Greasy's Diner" and decided to have a look and get some breakfast. Before his food arrived, the bell over the door jingled merrily, announcing a few more customers. However, the voices -that were apparently arguing- were familiar.

He looked up from his book and around, spotting the young Sphinx and Gargoyle he and his father had found and hurried to the hospital months ago. The gargoyle was a strange sight to see. He looked both like solid rock, yet with the fluidity that came with organic creatures, melded into one, and glowing solid-gold eyes.

Other than that, the only real difference in appearance was a change of clothes(or maybe not, seeing the clothes turned to stone with the gargoyle, erasing the colors), a large chip taken out of the left horn. On closer examination, his right wing seemed a little testy about opening wide or abruptly(as he could guess from the childs quiet grumbles), besides the white and grey owl perched on the Spinx's shoulders, it's large orange eyes seeming to stare straight into Fiddlefords' soul.

First one, then the other spotted him, and then all of a sudden he was being overwhelmed by the two youngsters, the Sphinx clambering next to him in the booth while the Gargoyle sat across from them.

"Woah, cool! I haven't found any good books on Centaurs here in town." the sphinx exclaimed, leaning over to look at the pictures, eyes quickly scanning the descriptions. His glasses had been replaced; black, with little gold bits in the upper corners, which glinted in the light coming out the large windows as he quickly readjusted them, since they'd gone askew.

The Gargoyle was also wearing glasses; rectangular and unassuming compared to his twins, and he appeared bored with the whole thing. "Bro, if you wanna know more about Centaurs, then just ask one here in town!" he exclaimed, groaning in annoyance when he was ignored, plopping his head on the table and tucking his nose into the crook of one arm, glaring/looking out like a large, drowsy house cat.

While confused and a little iffy about the whole situation, Fidds noticed that a lot of the other monsters were physically relaxing, conversations that sounded fake or forced about costumes and parties turning to more normal, everyday things; which apparently included random, "no-holds-barred" brawling, as three of the patrons, who had just been hanging out before, started chanting it at the top of their lungs and charged out the door.

One had been a tall, burly, fiery red-haired man, the other two what appeared to be Minotaur's. A second human only sighed, paused to pay for the group, and trailed after them. He shot Fiddleford a comforting glance and a thumbs up as he passed, as if knowing what the other was going through before hurrying off to catch up with his friends.

A black-furred, silver-eyed werewolf lady, whose nametag dubbed her "Ash", arrived soon with a stack of pancakes and a side of scrambled eggs and bacon, besides hot chocolate, for Fiddleford. She paused and her eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of the two boys. With her tail, she lightly swatted the Sphinx over the head, making him yelp and lean back enough for her to set the plates of food and mug down.

"Ow, what that heck?" the sphinx grumbled, before catching sight of her and blushing in embarrassment. "H-hey, Ashley." he greeted nervously.

The gargoyle boy raised his head and growled threateningly when his brother got smacked, but slapped on a grin. "Heya, Ash." he greeted, apparently using a nickname.

She narrowed her eyes at them. "Did you and Lee ask?" she questioned, giving Fiddleford a cursory glance and the boys pointed looks. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, though it was difficult to be sure.

The gargoyle piped up. "No, poindexter didn't. I just followed along."

Ash glanced at him, then back to the Sphinx. "Ford," she started in a warning tone. "You really need to start asking. I can understand that you'd be excited over meeting someone who seems to like what you do," she glanced at the open book at the table. "But you still need to be respectful. Understood?"

He nodded, looking down and twiddling his hand-like-paws. "Sorry." he addressed Fiddleford, who was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

"No, no, it's alright, actually." he spoke up, seeing as the two were about to leave.

Ash put a hand on her hip. "Alright then. I'll just take the twins orders and leave you be." she smiled.

The boys ordered the special, like Fiddleford, and soon actual introductions were given.

The gargoyle was Lee, and the Sphinx was Ford. Both remembered him, apparently, after meeting them briefly before he left when they woke up. When he asked about Ash, they merely said that she lived in the same neighborhood and often babysat them when their parents were out, and besides that, were really good friends.

The owl was introduced as Amicus Noctuam Piceae, or just Amicus. Apparently, it was Latin and the last name meant "Pines", like the boys last name.

"So, why are you here?" Lee asked, starting to dig into his half of the meal hungrily. "His half" consisted of the bacon and eggs, while his brother claimed the pancakes.

Fidds(as Lee had nicknamed him) took another sip of cocoa before answering. "Well, I wanted to try and find a job out of town for the summer, perhaps find a little adventure as well. Gravity Falls left a bit of an impression on me."

Lee grinned wide. "As big as the crater I made in the highway?"

"Lee!" hissed Ford, swatting at him(they had chosen to sit next to eachother when their own food arrived). Ford seemed uncomfortable with the joke. "Be polite!"

"How was that not?" Lee countered, acting hurt from the hit, but seeming not to feel it. "And besides, that was the first time I caused a lot of damage by accident and no one could blame anyone." his grin dropped into something akin to guilt. ". . .no one but me. . ." he mumbled, wings hiking up on his back and ears flattening.

Ford patted his brothers shoulder comfortingly before turning to attack his pancakes. "Do either of you boys know anyplace in town that's hiring? I need to get a job and a place to stay the night."

The brothers shared a look. The owl(which Fidds recognized as a Northen White-Faced Owl) hooted, leaning over to peck at a piece of leftover bacon on Lee's plate. Both suddenly grinned, giving Fidds a good look at their differing sets of sharp teeth.

"Our dad's pawn shop!" they said at once. The owl startled and suddenly seemed to be skinny and tall as a stick and glaring at Fidds, rather than short and fluffy and adorable. At both the outburst and the owls' look he jumped. Ford gently scooped the owl up and pet its head while it perched on his shoulder, settling once more and looking cute.

"It's alright, Amicus," he comforted softly. "It's alright. Fidds is a friend, too." he soothed the owl. It hooted, seemingly in response, and seemed to send Fiddleford an apologizing look. Fidds knew it as silly to think so, but some part of him nagged that he was talking to a gargoyle and a sphinx and was recently served breakfast by a werewolf. He had little room to judge right now on what was and wasn't possible.

"Our dad has been looking for someone to help him at the shop, and I'm sure we could convince him to let you bunk upstairs, too." Lee explained, grinning wide in excitement. "

Fiddleford considered. It could work out, and besides, these two young brothers, twins, no less, seemed to be quite the interesting case.

He finally nodded, but before he could reply, Lee continued. "Will you stay with us? Please?" he begged, ears twitching a bit, wings shuffling nervously as he grinned pleadingly.

"Sure, I don't see why not." Fidds replied. He couldn't help a smile. The two boys cheered together, the owl hooted, and someone -or _thing_ \- from farther down started to complain about the steak he'd recieved not being raw enough.

* * *

It all worked out. Fidds got the job and was allowed to bunk in the spare bedroom upstairs. Much to his surprise, Mr. Pines was a human, and that left him to wonder exactly what made humans monsters in this town.

It was early the next morning, on a Wednesday, that he suddenly found a large weight dropped on his chest, landing so hard that he wheezed. He opened his eyes to see Ford, who was blushing in embarrassment and glaring at his brother, who was standing on the foot of the bed. His fur, hair, and ever feathers were ruffled and unkempt, and the sphinx gave his eyes a quick rub, squinting without his glasses.

"Lee!" he hissed, showing his teeth and flattening his ears when he finally spotted his brother.

"What? It was funny!" he replied with a quiet giggle.

"C-could you get off?" Fidds asked, exasperated, but oddly endeared by their childish antics. He'd never had siblings or been around young folk all to often, and he found thier energy and cheer to be refreshing.

Ford mumbled out an apology as he scrambled off. A quick glance out the window told him that it was very, very early in the morning. And a glance at the clock -after finding his glasses- told him that it was before six in the morning.

"What are you two doing up so early, anyway?" he asked, climbing out of bed. He was already awake; he may as well get up and get moving.

"Well, we want to go check something out that we found two weeks ago, but it's a bit of a hike. We figured that it'd be best to start early." Lee replied, lunging towards the window. It was open, and he easily balanced on all fours, crouched like a large, stone cat, tail flicking and ears pricked.

Ford rubbed his eyes with a groan. While Lee was dressed in shorts and a white-and-red striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, Ford was still in his pj's. "Yeah, but did you have to wake us up by dropping me on our guest?" he grumbled, yawning wide; too wide for a human, but normal enough when Fidds recalled the cat/lion side to him.

"Yep!" Lee replied, grinning wide. His wings stretched and flapped, and he leaned farther out the window, snuffing the air. He turned around. "You two better hurry up and get dressed. We gotta go before Pop wakes up and tans our hides before selling them to a tourist tomorrow." while there was little logic in this statement, he turned around and landed lightly on the ground, rising to his two feet and walking out.

Ford rolled his eyes, but followed him out. Fidds was in over his head.

* * *

Fiddleford had dressed accordingly for the summers heat, and now walked behind the two excited twins as they lead him deeper and deeper into the forest. Just as they reached a small clearing, however, Ford stopped them, pointing for them to be quiet. His owl, Amicus, peered out, then glanced back and locked eyes with Fidds. It blinked several times, in a pattern, then looked back out, perched on the sphinx's shoulder.

A herd of what first appeared to be deer stood in the clearing. As one lifted it's "head", however, Fidds realized that rather than deer, he was staring down at some sort half deer, half human creatures, perhaps related to Centaurs.

One thing he noticed were the antlers the males all seemed to have, that all had the ears of a deer rather than human ones, and that they more-or-less walked around bare-chested, the women with only a length of cloth tied around their chests.

There were some children, who, besides being much smaller, had white spots on their sides, no antlers, and none seemed to wear shirts, not even the young girls, who were better recognizable by their long hair. They raced about, playing games of tag and chase, besides other games that were undecipherable from just looking, shouting and laughing.

Some seemed to be adolescents, with spots disappearing and nubs of antlers growing, some of the young ladies with the cloths tied around their chests not needing them, talking and laughing and chatting with one another that like kids hanging out at the mall. A few of the youngest of these teens were playing or looking after the children/fawns, while some of the older were hanging around the adult, but for the most part, they all stuck together.

Overall, it was a sight to behold. It made him wish for a camera.

Then, across the clearing, Fidds spotted something lurking in the shadows. He couldn't quite make it out, but then there was the terrified bleating of a fawn and all the deer-people started to flee.

And, to Fiddlefords' horror, they were stampeding right towards him and the twins.

* * *

 **Ta-da! Okay, this is a bit brief, I realize, but I thought it'd be best to show that YES, both are alive.**

 **Okay, can anyone tell me what the owls' name means in English? Not a challenge, the previous from the last chapter or so is still the only one up. This one is more for fun.**

 **Okay, I need a bit of help. I want to pick out a pet for Fidds and Lee, one that reflects thier personalities as Amicus, the owl, does for Ford. )Ex. Owls represent knowledge, and Stanford was the smart one who loved studying.( I think you get the idea.**

 **Please review!**


	8. Moon's Light Madness (Pt 1)

**I found this,**

 **"** The tune reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . . **"**

 **nice little random prompt on the internet and thought of the following. Too long for a full oneshot, so this is going to be a short arc, two, three chapters at most.**

 **Even though the story doesn't exactly follow along with the prompt, this is what I ended up thinking of in parallel to it, so I thought it deserved some credit and acknowledgement.**

* * *

 **Drabble 8:** Moon's Light Madness (Pt. 1)

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _The tune reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Mystery Trio  
Werewolf Au_

 _(The nameswap is in affect; in other words,  
_ _Stanford is Author and Stanley is the Grunkle  
_ _we've known for more than half the summer.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _Looking around at random prompts online and  
saw this(what's in the sum) . . . now I got an idea  
stuck in my head and I gotta write it out now. Not sure  
how much of the prompt itself will get into here, I just got the idea from it._

Stanley came back to consciousness slowly. He just . . . didn't want to move. Everything ached and his arm hurt. Finally, he slowly cracked his eyes open, wincing at the bright sunlight slanting down into them. After several moments of getting used to the light, he finally blinked and looked around. He was outside. In the forest. He sat up quickly, looking around in a half-panic, eyes wide.

He couldn't recall why he was out there, at so early in the morning, nor what he had been doing last. The last thing he could dredge up was blurred, and it consisted of accompanying his brother and his shrimp partner, McGucket, out on a monster hunt. That was last Monday . . . what was today? It felt like a long time had passed, and yet . . . very little time at all.

It was all very confusing to the not-fully-awake man, though when he noticed the blood . . . . that definitely forced him up.

He stood up and groaned, feeling immediately dizzy. He checked himself over, finding several scrapes, but most worryingly, a large bite mark on his left shoulder. His clothes were shredded, barely suitable for walking around in.

Taking off the remains of his ruined shirt, he held it as tightly as he could to the wound. Staggering to his feet, Lee looked around for landmarks, and limped in the direction of home when he'd gotten his bearings.

He was actually surprised how close he had been, and paused a moment to lean against a tree not two minutes after he'd gotten up, feeling lightheaded. Just across the clearing was the cabin he and Stanford lived in. Getting back to his feet, he staggered across the lawn, tripped up the stairs onto the porch, and kicked the door as hard as he could.

The sound echoed through the house. There was a surprised, high pitched scream, a loud thump, and a scrambling of feet. Stanley leaned against the door frame, eyes half lidded and glazed over with pain when the door was suddenly thrown open.

It took him several seconds to realize that he was looking down the barrel of gun. And a few seconds longer to see who was holding it. He groaned quietly in pain and slight annoyance, rolling his eyes.

"Well I can always count on you for a warm welcome." he said, with as much sarcasm as he could at the moment.

There was a moments pause as Fidds apparently took in who was at the door and the state he was in. The gun cast aside, Fidds assisted the injured man inside, laying him down on the couch before rushing off to grab a first aid kit.

Lee wasn't paying all to much attention. He was already slipping back into Dreamland, feeling exhausted for some reason.

* * *

He awoke in the early evening. Trying to sit up, he yelped in pained surprise at the pulsing pain in his shoulder, falling back against the couch. Almost instantly, Ford was barreling around the corner and asking him questions a mile a minute.

Lee had to smack at him to get him to shut up long enough to answer anything. He was currently laying on the couch on his back, in nothing but a pair of jeans and covered with a soft blanket, a bandage wrapped tightly around his left shoulder, his scrapes having been tended to in a similar matter.

It took a long time to get through that _YES_ , he was alright now, _NO_ , he didn't know what happened, and that he'd like something to eat and the date, as well.

Turns out, according to Ford and the professor, he'd gone out late two days ago and simply disappeared; they hadn't found a single trace of him.

Apparently, when Fiddleford had responded with a gun pointed at his face earlier this morning, he'd panicked. He'd stayed at the house the other night while Ford asked around town and searched through the woods nearby the little clearing the cabin sat in to look for any traces of his brother he may've missed.

Either way, all was well now, and Lee only had to lounge around a few days to make sure his shoulder wouldn't get any worse.

* * *

He was swift as the wind, strong as an oak, and silent as the moon.

He was also free; free, free, free! Free to run as fast as he could, to fight and take down any who dared to enter his territory, and silent enough to stalk his prey.

Soon, he reached his destination.

A farm. Not particularly large, but he still had to be cautious. Unfamiliar human scents filled the air, dissuading him from nearing, yet prey-scents floated tantalizingly underneath his nose, beckoning him closer.

He didn't rush in brashly, however. To do so could lead to something he couldn't back out of, and he had no true pack to return to. Dim memories of brown-furred and ginger-furred figures, one each, that he couldn't quite make out in his head, told him of family and a friend that he had, who would always back him up . . . but not right now.

Not where he was now, _WHO_ he was now. They could only help him with other things, he dimly thought. They can't help him on hunts. He can only help _himself_ on the hunts.

Carefully, he circled the entire perimeter of the food-keepers' territory, scenting for any signs of people, awake or asleep, or, perhaps more importantly, of other wolves who might be hunting this night nearby.

There was none. The humans were asleep, the food was his to snatch and keep, and there were no wolves out in the woods this deep.

He found a young calf, checked to make sure he had two good escape routes, and went in for the kill.

* * *

For the last week, Stanley had been having strange dreams. Every night, he'd dream he was a large, strong, fast wolf, sprint away from his home in the dream, and go hunting.

And, every night, he began to remember the dreams a little better, with more and more clarity. He wasn't sure what it meant, but enjoyed the freedom he felt each night. That was the strange thing about the dreams. The less fuzzy and clearer they got, the more realistic they felt. Or, the more he _realized_ how realistic they felt.

He also felt exhausted every morning, rather than refreshed, and spent more time grumbling about the kitchen fixing himself some coffee trying to wake up. He didn't eat as much in the mornings, feeling strangely full, or at least not hungry.

His brother and the professor were busy with some "new case" or creature or whatever it was they were tracking, and didn't notice much except his grumpiness in the mornings and distinct lack of enthusiasm he normally held when asked if he wanted to help them hunt down a monster.

It was easily chalked up to Stanley being difficult about helping them with their "weird nerd-cult work", as he sometimes did, and left him alone for the most part so he could get over it.

It didn't get much better. In fact, it only seemed to grow worse. By the end of the next week, he was sleeping all day and night, waking up only briefly, and then, they had to get him up themselves.

He'd gripe and grumble for awhile, going about simple tasks with his eyelids drooping, and escape to a spot to sleep as quick as he could.

That was the first sign something was amiss.

* * *

It was two days before the new moon. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he felt that it was significant. He could recall more clearly what his fellow packmates looked like.

They were human, and he a wolf.

This separated them, a huge chasm that had only one chance of being crossed. Or, at least, the only way that he knew of.

Bite them. Simple as that. Bite them, and soon they would be able to join him.

He stalked silently through the woods near his "home"; or, more like the only place that he felt comfortable and safe staying near as compared to all the other buildings in the tiny town nearby.

He was waiting for one of his packmates to come out. But something nagged at him.

Would they not recognize him? What if they didn't, and retaliated? What if it got out of hand, and one was hurt badly?

Would they even want to join him?

The large, chocolate brown wolf froze, half in and half out of the concealing brush.

His brown eyes narrowed, and his ears flattened, deep in thought.

Would they want to join him? At all? How long had it been since he spoke with them? Would they reject him now, with how he was? Would they even care if he slipped off for a long time? Why weren't they like him in the first place?

This last question halted his entire train of thought.

Why wasn't his packbrother, his littermate, his _TWIN_ like him? Why? What had happened that had pushed them apart? Was it something he did?

Or what? What happened?

With a dull whine, the large creature solemnly lowered his head, about to back away when he looked up and caught sight of the thin sliver of the moon overhead.

Compelled by it, he instead took a cautious step forward. Then, half in and half out of the shadows, he raised his snout to point at the star-laden sky, and started to howl.

It wasn't an angry one, or a call to others to hunt, nor a warning to tell another pack to stay away.

This was a mournful, pleading cry, wavering and falling and rising again and again in the night; a sad sound that could make anyone feel and understand the aching loneliness felt by the lone wolf who, put simply, didn't understand.

Didn't understand why he was alone, with no memory of being driven out or voluntarily leaving his pack; with memory of a brother and packfriend he couldn't be with anymore but had seen recently, somehow, and with no way to join them or have them join him.

He howled and howled and howled, until the moon began to set. The lonesome song rose sharply, akin to a last, sobbing cry for help, before dropping off and lowering in pitch and volume before he finally stopped entirely. He lowered his gaze, eyes wet with tears.

He spotted the upright shape not fifteen feet from him, and froze.

Both remained silent.

He faintly recalled this human, and stood slowly, stepping out into the dim light of a dropped lantern. He wagged his tail and kept his head lowered, eyes focused on the other, being submissive and trying to be friendly. The human moved, trembling, and pulled out a thing that was thin and flashed in the dim light.

A knife. He was pointing a knife towards him.

He froze, eyes fixed on the weapon. Ears pinned back, tail tucking between his legs, he took one more step forward, whining in a final attempt to make peace.

To be accepted, cared for, loved.

The human, whom he faintly recognized as his packbrother, shouted in fear and waved the knife towards him.

It was the words, not the weapon, that sent the wolf fleeing through the woods.

"GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Tears filled the wolfs eyes as he crawled under a bush near the house, raised his head to the sky, and howled and howled, the abandoned, pained loneliness clear in the sweet, resonating voice, that would bring tears to anyone who listened.

It cut off suddenly when the moon finally set.

* * *

Stanley, for the second time in under a month, woke up outside. He didn't bother moving. There was a certain heaviness settled deep within himself, deep in his chest.

Something was telling him very distinctly that he'd been driven out of his own home, and by his brother.

No no no, that couldn't be right! Could it . . ?

He suddenly felt a surge of crushing loneliness and fear and the pain of betrayal, and curled in on himself with a heavy sob. Before to long, he'd cried himself to sleep with lingering feelings of hopelessness, betrayal, loneliness, and fear inside.

Not five minutes later, voices were shouting his name, calling out for him.

Stanley wasn't awake to hear them.

* * *

Rather than in a building, the brown-furred-and-eyed wolf awoke underneath a bush. For a moment, he was confused; then the events of the previous night came flooding back and he whimpered, curling in on himself until he was as small as he possibly could be, whimpering and whining, shivering more from fear than the cool night air.

Tears poured from his eyes, his tail was clamped between his legs, and deep-throated whimpers shuddered through his whole body; this was as close to sobbing as he could get.

At last, he rose once more, eyes dulled of emotion, fur unkempt, and decided to hunt something down to make up for not eating last night and most of this night.

He walked slowly off, no real direction in mind, and left the house-territory that was once his packs; and still was.

He was just no longer apart of it.

* * *

 **That's a wrap! Don't worry, part two will come out soon. Please review!**


	9. In This Together(borrowed)

**Hey-o, everybody! Now, just to let y'all know, this is NOT my own work. This is the work of "** ineffablye **". You can go take a look at their story stuff, but basically I offered to post his chapter and Au idea-oneshot thingy onto here. Can't recall if it's actually going to become multichapter, but either way, go check out their work!**

 ** _Guest Author's Note_ : _"Hi! I'm ineffablye! The story you're about to read is the first chapter of my own fic, "In This Together." I spent God knows how long editing and changing things around in this story, but hopefully it's turned out alright. Check it out if you're interested in what happens next!_**

 _ **I'm super excited to be able to post this as a guest author in Liliana's work! She had originally come to me with the idea of a guest chapter as well as a collaborative fic, and I am pumped for both!**_  
 _ **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing**_ **it!"**

* * *

 **Drabble 9:** In This Together(borrowed)

* * *

Stanley grunted a bit and wrenched at the transmission, shifting into third gear with some effort. Almost immediately, an awful grinding sound erupted from the engine, and Stan yelped a bit in surprise. Leaning forward, he stared wide eyed at the hood of the car, holding his breath in anticipation. He only allowed himself to exhale after the noise dulled to a soft putter.

Christ, that had startled him.

He gave the steering wheel an absentminded pat. The old car certainly had its quirks, but it still ran like a champ when push came to shove. It was like him–it had personality, chugging along no matter what the circumstance.

Now that he thought about it, it was probably more successful at the latter than _he_ was.

He sighed and glanced over to the passenger seat. The postcard Stanford had sent lay there innocently, or as innocently as it could with its vague-and-yet-ominous message hastily scribbled on the back. There was something foreboding about the small card, and even underneath the overwhelming awkwardness and anxiety that came with the prospect of reuniting with his twin, Stanley could tell there was something even darker lurking under the surface.

He pushed those thoughts aside hastily. He was just over thinking things now, an idea that in itself was actually kind of funny. 'Over thinking' as it was, had once been a foreign concept to him, but in recent months he discovered that he was increasingly doing just that.

Shaking his head, Stan tried to reassure himself. _Nothing_ bad was happening. It came to reason that his brother would want to see him again, after all this time. Maybe the thought of international treasure hunting had regained that adventurous glow that had originally drawn the two to the idea. Hell, he was probably bored to death, holed up in some little nowhere town with his research...That had to be it. _Had_ to be.

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, although nothing about the thought had been particularly humorous. Who was he trying to kid here? Certainly not himself.

Stanley tightened his grip on the steering wheel and returned his gaze to the road.

* * *

The snow thickened as he neared Gravity Falls, and a few miles across the city boundaries, he was finally forced to pull over.

It was a complete whiteout.

Stan grunted a bit in irritation, drumming his fingers against the rim of the steering wheel. It was becoming clear that unless he wanted to try his luck against the steadily dropping temperatures, he'd have to tough the rest of the way out on foot. Half turning, he shoved a couple boxes of failed merchandise off the seat behind him and grabbed his duffel, slinging it over his shoulder with bitter exasperation.

Then, finally, accompanied by only his pack and the begrudging air of someone who _really didn't want to ask for directions,_ he pushed open his door, stepped out of the car, and headed off to do exactly that.

* * *

It took ten weary minutes of being given a series of convoluted instructions for Stan to pry an understandable route from the conversation. And, while he certainly didn't appreciate having his ears talked off, he managed to learn some of the history surrounding his brother's stay.

Apparently Ford come to Gravity Falls a few years prior, and had remained reclusive in his home. However odd lights and strange noises had drawn the attention of a few of the more curious locals. Reports of supernatural creatures began to grow as well, particularly in the last few weeks. Gnomes, fairies, scientologists…some were more dangerous than others. The woman continued to drone on, listing off any other abnormalities she could think to name.

Stan couldn't help but scoff at the notion, and chalked it up to local superstition. Heck, if this woman was anything to go by, then the residents of Gravity Falls weren't exactly the brightest in the box. Who knows what they were _really_ seeing? Swamp gas or weather balloons…it could have been any number of things.

Shaking his head, he thanked her for her help, and began the cold trek towards 618 Gopher Road.

He arrived at what he assumed to be the house fairly quickly. As it turned out, he wasn't that far off course, having parked his car only just down the road. Pushing aside a few brambles, he brushed himself down and stepped out into the clearing.

It looked like something out of a movie.

The windows, as far as he could tell, had been boarded up ages ago, and a rotating satellite dish took up most of the front yard. Stanley glanced at the sign beside him. It was wrapped in barbed wire, which spun out from it's base and littered the ground in every which way.

Ford certainly knew what to use to add that extra homey touch.

Carefully, Stan walked up the creaking porch stairs and raised his arm to knock, but in a moment of self doubt, he hesitated.

He could feel himself begin to get cold feet*.

He felt like turning on his heel and running away–back to his car, back to New Mexico, back to his crummy motel...The conflict of emotions involved in this was beginning to feel like too much. It was like he was standing at the telephone booth again, fidgeting with the cord as he nervously waited for Ford to pick up.

Except that this time, there might not be another opportunity to call again.

Stanley took a deep breath and looked at the door. He had driven over a thousand miles to meet his brother. He couldn't _afford_ to turn back now. Whatever it was his brother had called him here for–he needed him, that much had been obvious.

He squared himself and lifted his arm to try again.

"You haven't seen your brother in over ten years...It's okay. He's _family._ He won't bite."

The weak attempt at reassuring himself didn't do much. Nevertheless, he banged on the door and listened to the knocks echo throughout the house.

He waited.

And then suddenly he was staring down the shaft of a very real, very _deadly_ crossbow.

 _"Who is it? Have you come to steal my eyes?!"_

Panic flashed through Stanley as he jerked back in surprise, but the shock of the situation quickly turned to irritation and concern as he realized it was his twin. His frown deepened.

"...Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome."

There was a brief pause as his words sank in, and after a moment of scrutiny, the look of animalistic fear on Stanford's face faded to recognition. He lowered the weapon, but the tense stance and wary look remained.

"Stanley," he started. There was a hint of relief in his voice, but it was immediately overshadowed by a grim caution, "Did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?"

The amount of paranoia in the question warranted an eye roll. Stanley was familiar with the fear that came with being on the run–one of the many perks of his own occupation–but even _this_ seemed excessive.

He shifted his weight. "Hello to you too, pal– _AUGH–"_

Stan was abruptly yanked into the house, tripping over his own feet as Ford pulled him up by the collar and examined his eyes.

" _HEY_ –" After a moment of struggle, Stan managed to smack down his brother's arm and quickly took a few steps back, distancing himself. "What is this?!"

A guilty expression quickly passed across Ford's face, and he rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Sorry, I just...had to make sure you weren't..." he paused for a moment's consideration, then shook his head dismissively and motioned for the other to step inside. "It's nothing. Come in, come in."

Stanley closed the door behind him as he entered the house, then turned to his brother, waiting for an explanation.

"Look, are you going to explain what's going on here? You're acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee."

Or possibly her hundredth _._

He folded his arms and looked Stanford over carefully for the first time since he arrived. There was really only one way to describe the other's appearance; in the most simple of terms, he looked like shit.

The normally put together scientist had dark bags circling his eyes, which were bloodshot and wild. His clothes were rumpled, hair greasy and unkempt, and the scruffy five o'clock shadow covering the lower half of his face gave off a disheveled air that didn't fit into the other's normally pristine demeanor.

"Listen," Ford started, "There isn't much time. I've made a huge mistake, and I don't know who I can trust anymore."

The sudden comment jerked Stan out of his thoughts and he looked worriedly at his brother, gesturing for Ford to calm down.

"Hey, easy there...Let's talk this through, okay?" He gave what he hoped to be a reassuring smile, but it came out as more of an awkward, twitching grimace. Moments passed, and even _that_ began to waver as the silence between them grew.

Then Ford spoke, a quiet sort of voice Stan had to strain to hear. "I have something to show

you...Something you won't believe."

There it was; that old melodramatic attitude, as per Stanford. If Stanley hadn't been so terrified he might've actually laughed, but instead he simply let out a scoff. "Look, I've been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I'll understand!"

* * *

"There is _nothing_ about this I understand."

Stanford seemed to be fighting back a heavy sigh, but nonetheless turned away from the machine to face his brother. He gestured behind him at the portal and began to explain.

"It's a trans-universal gateway; a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe, but it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction." There was a pause to let the information sink in, and he lookedat Stan gravely.

"That's why I shut it down and hid my journals which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left, and you are the only person I can trust to take it." Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a rust colored, leatherbound book, a golden six fingered hand pasted on the front. He held it out for Stan, who took it with a bewildered sort of awe.

"I have something to ask of you. Remember our plans to sail around in a boat?"

Clutching the journal, Stanley nodded. How could he have forgotten? He'd give _anything_ to be in that boat with his brother, to live the life they had dreamt of as children. The thought that perhaps it was still possible brought a small, yet hopeful smile to his face.

"Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!"

Instantly, the smile vanished, morphing into a glare, and his fingers gripped the book tightly. He could feel his nails digging into the leather.

He clenched his teeth and stepped forward.

"That's _it?_ You _finally_ want to see me after ten years, and it's to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?!"

"Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!"

"No, no." He was shaking now. He could feel the shudders traveling down his body and he saw red. Angrily, he jabbed a finger into Ford's chest, "You don't understand what _I've_ been through! I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems?!" Stan grabbed at his own hair and gestured to it wildly, "I HAVE A _MULLET_ , STANFORD!

Whichever of the three hit the hardest, Stan couldn't tell, but an ashamed expression had crossed Ford's face. Stanley himself even felt a pang of guilt, but he quickly brushed it aside, his anger getting the better of him.

"Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods, selfishly hoarding your college money because you only care about yourself!"

The other gave him an incredulous stare.

"I'm selfish?" Ford said softly, as if in disbelief. " _I'm_ selfish, Stanley?! How can you say that after costing me my dream school?!" His volume had grown increasingly with each word and now he was practically shouting. "I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won't even listen!"

"Well, _listen_ to this! You want me to get rid of this book, right? _Fine!_ " He waved the journal in front of Ford and shoved his hand into his pocket, desperately grasping for his lighter. "I'll get rid of right now!"

"No! You don't understand–"

"You said you wanted me to have it so I'll do what I want with it!"

"My _research–"_

A body slammed into Stanley and he shouted, tumbling over, frantically kicking and wrestling to keep the journal. His mind was racing in a blurred frenzy. He couldn't think.

 _"Stanley! Give it back!"_

He could feel his back hitting buttons and levers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All those years of resentment towards his twin, all those years of _anger_ towards Stanford for leaving him, for not speaking up, for never even _trying_ to call–

The portal made a crackling noise as it began to power on.

"You want it back?! You're gonna have to try harder than that!" He shoved the other as hard as he could, sending him sprawling. "You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us forever! You ruined my life!"

"You ruined your own life!"

Stan could feel the other kick him in the chest, knocking him back, and then there was a pain. It was a blinding, searing pain in his shoulder. Tears came to Stan's eyes and he let go of the book, screaming.

He fell to the ground, clutching at his arm breathlessly.

He could faintly hear his brother apologizing and asking if he was alright, but he didn't care. Pushing himself to his feet, he flung a fist out and was satisfied when it was met with a resounding crack.

He began to walk towards Stanford, an icy glare boring into the other's forehead.

"Some brother you turned out to be! You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family! Well, you can have 'em!"

He shoved the book at Ford angrily, squeezing his eyes shut, and felt a strong tug as a hand wrapped around his wrist.

He stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet, and he flung out his arms to break his fall.

It never came.

Wrenching his eyes open, he looked down, the ground now a good three feet below him.

"Whoa, whoa, hey–what's going on?" He looked to the other, terrified, briefly forgetting about the fight they had seconds earlier, "Hey, _Stanford!"_

"Stanley!" Ford's grasp on his wrist tightened, "Stanley, listen to me! Whatever you do–Don't let go of me, alright?! Don't let go–!"

Stanley could only nod, speechless as he turned his head towards the portal, and gripped at the other's coat in fear. The light from the portal was almost blinding and he could feel a warm jolt as he began to pass through.

Then, everything went black.

* * *

*Literally, too. It had to be in the northern boonies, didn't it?

* * *

 **Again, this is the work of "** **", not me, and I've just been given permission to help share this idea. I might do this in other places and with other fics, but it's not super-likely, as I'm not sure how much permission I'll gain here-and-there, and I refuse to steal or copyright.**

 **Please review!**


	10. Moon's Light Madness (Pt 2)

**Okay, so . . . I found another prompt thing. Hurray! *sarcasm***

 **"** The park stretched out verdantly around me. Which was odd because I had no recollection of how I got there. **"**

 **In short, it fit the whole werewolf-thing pretty good, so I thought I'd try to use it a little. In a sense; it's more like waking up and not recalling where you are or how you got there, but it might not turn out to be an actual park.**

* * *

 **Drabble 10:** Moon's Light Madness (Pt. 2)

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _The tune reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Mystery Trio  
Werewolf Au_

 _(The nameswap is in affect; in other words,  
Stanford is Author and Stanley is the Grunkle  
we've known for more than half the summer.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _Okay, so, *hits palm with fist* this is a  
continuation of drabble 8; first off, get that out of the way.  
So, there's going to be some heartache and perhaps  
a bit of blood and other stuff, besides a moody twin and  
an anxious one with his half-annoyed-half-worried colleague._

Ford stared at the wolf, as he had been for the last several minutes. At first, he'd awoken to the sound. It had been . . . almost soothing, until he woke up enough to realize what it was.

Then he'd been terrified, scrambling into a pair of jeans and a black shirt from the day before. He hurried out, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. He decided that his brother had been acting crabby enough and claiming sleep-deprivation the past several days, and would probably appreciate being allowed to sleep some more.

With a lantern in hand, he also grabbed a good, sturdy pocketknife before stealing outside. Silently, he walked around the corner of the house. What he saw made him stop dead, dropping the lantern with a loud clatter.

There, sitting half in and out of the shadows, was a large, dark-furred wolf. It's eyes closed and muzzle uplifted to the sky, it howled and howled without pause or stop. It's ears didn't even twitch when he dropped the lantern.

It's song(it was hard to think of anything but) was lonely and sad, pleading and mournful. Ford jumped when the howl rose sharply before fading slowly out. It . . . affected something inside of him, the feelings of the song making him view the creature with pity, and a strange desire to help.

Thoughts distracted, he only noticed the wolf when it approached. Trembling, Stanford pulled out the knife. His thoughts turned to sirens that tricked sailor's with thier songs, and knew that it was entirely possible that this could be some sort of magic making him feel this way towards the creature.

It stopped upon seeing he was armed, ears laid back. It took another step forward and he swung the knife, shouting, "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" as loud as he could.

The wolf turned tail and was gone in a matter of moments. Breathing hard, Ford picked up the lantern and made his way inside. He paused at the door, hearing the howling start back up, farther away in the woods. The pure, lonely, begging sadness was clear, and tugged at his heartstrings. Ford hesitated, shook his head, and went inside.

Pulling out various books on mythology and some others, he started sniffing out the cause for this wolf's strange behavior. What he finally put together both relieved and worried him. By then, it was early morning. Knowing Fiddleford would be arriving soon to help out on the newest case, he fixed himself some coffee and breakfast, eyes skimming yesterdays paper as he ate.

Almost everyday for the past two weeks there had been reports of animals disappearing, large, wolf-like tracks on the ground nearby, sometimes the remains of animals carcasses were found.

Among the few that had been found were gnawed right to the bone, leaving not a single scrap of meat behind, and often on very large animals, like horses or cows. It was very worrying indeed to have such a large creature wandering about near town, and most people were starting to avoid the woods at all costs, afraid that whatever was going for such big livestock would have no problem going after a weak, scrawny human.

But from what he had gathered and put together, Ford suspected that there was no need to worry. If the wolf, or, more like, _werewolf_ , as he suspected it to be, had wanted to attack him, it would have gone for him the moment his presence was known.

Of course, there were a lot of "why"s and "what if"s involved in all of this. That's why he was waiting for Fiddleford. He had a plan. Or, the idea for a plan. Something that would help everybody.

Because, if his suspicions were correct, then this werewolf had no intentions of hurting anyone. In fact, it was more likely they were recently turned and seeking help so they could go back to normal and reverse the "curse".

Something felt . . . off, by the time the Professor arrived. Something was . . . missing.

"Hey, Stanford." Fidds greeted, taking a seat across from him, opening up the small folder that was shoved his way. "Anything new on the case?"

Ford nodded, and relayed what he had seen last night and had researched.

"Hm . . . it sounds to me like you have a plan already in mind."

Ford nodded. "Something like that, but we'll need more manpower than what we've got; we need Lee for this, but I'm not sure how cooperative he'll be, considering the past several days." he admitted.

Fiddleford glanced around. "Where is he, anyway? Doesn't he usually get up by now?" he questioned.

Ford rolled his eyes. "I'll go get him up." he drained the last of his mug, stood, and headed upstairs. He knocked on the door, and, receiving no response, pushed it open. "Up and at-'em bro. Come . . .on . . . " the bed was empty, sheets and quilt disheveled. The window was open wide, the curtains fluttering in the breeze and darkening the room.

Stanley was no where to be seen.

Panic gripped him. What if he was wrong? What if it was a trick? What if his brother had gone out last night and gotten attacked or killed by that thing? What if, what if, what if . . . .

Before he knew it, he was flying down the stairs, banging out the front door, and sprinting towards the woods. "STANLEY! BRO, WHERE ARE YOU?!" he shouted, pausing a long minute to listen for any answering calls.

He heard panting and footsteps, and turned around to see Fiddleford. "Stanford, what is going on?" he huffed out, bending over to place his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

Ford swiveled on his heel, looking around. "Stanley's not in his room, haven't seen him since the other evening, and I'm just, I'm just . . ." Fidds placed a calming hand on his shoulder, and he realized that he was starting to hyperventilate. He tried to slow his breathing, taking deep breaths.

When he'd finally calmed, Fidds lead him back towards the cabin. "I bet Stanley just wandered off somewhere. I'm sure he'll be fine." Fidds tried to console his coworker and friend.

It didn't help much.

* * *

There were precious few hours before the new moon.

He still hadn't found a new den. Mostly because he'd been putting it off, and didn't really want to. Something told him that it'd be okay, come morning, so long as he sprinted across the clearing, skittered up the slope, and through the hole in the wall to his own den.

But he had to be fast, or he'd miss his chance and he might not get back for even longer.

And his packbrother would be worried for longer. Looking back on the night before, he could realize that it was fear, and not anger, that drove his littermates words. It had been a misunderstanding; which meant that it was _okay_ to return home. The territory was still shared with him, and he wouldn't be punished for entering.

Mind made up, the dark-furred creature slowly crept across the silent lawn, leaped high, clambered up the steep slope as quietly as possible, and tumbled into his den. He immediately felt a little better, now that he was in this familiar place. He was hungry, though . . . he'd spent most of this night crying and searching for a new den, rather than hunting.

And he hadn't hunted the previous night, either. At the moment, the large, furry creature was to exhausted from the wailing howls and sobbing of the past few nights to do much about his hunger.

That said, he slowly rose to his feet, hopped onto the bed, shook out his pelt. Nosing his way under the soft, worn, familiar quilt, and flopping onto his side, he fell swiftly asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Stanley woke up early, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and wandered downstairs to get himself something to eat. He felt strangely . . . off-balanced, odd, subdued. He wasn't sure if it was simply from the hunger clawing at his throat like some sort of monster, or if he'd gotten himself drunk or what. What he was sure of was that he his brother was immensely relieved when he came downstairs and saw him at the table.

Once more, just like two weeks ago, he had to explain that he didn't recall the last day or so very clearly, and that yes, he was alright. It took cooking some more pancakes and practically shoving them underneath his brothers nose to get him to finally shut up and start eating.

After Fiddleford arrived, Lee retreated to the living room side table, shuffling cards and absentmindedly listening as they talked about some creature preying on local farms.

His dreams were but a foggy memory now, and he actually felt better than he had for awhile. When the others asked him if he would like to help, he grinned wide and nodded, going to fetch his favorite pair of knuckle dusters, just in case.

They ended up circling the farms that had been hit the most and recently, to see if they could pick up any signs of the creature. The most they found was a well-trampled trail, leading through the woods. It was made by a very large creature, broad of shoulders, but short; probably the wolf. They followed it, but after several miles, it crossed a stream and disappeared, with no other leads.

While Fidds and his nerdy brother marked up the trail and location of the stream on their map, Lee picked his way a little farther downstream, glancing here and there. He didn't find anything, but he would've sworn he saw eyes on him, watching him from the brush. When he went to investigate it, though, there was nothing.

That night, Lee slept soundly and deeply, and there were no attacks anywhere. The next morning, he felt like his old self, and he assisted Ford and the Professor in going out and setting up a trap on the trail. It was designed to catch the creature, not hurt it, since it probably didn't want to hurt anyone, since it was blah blah blah. Lee stopped listening to it all after a couple minutes, focused more on the heavy pack on his back.

Before too long, they'd reached the location and were setting up a sort of net trap. Lee mostly helped with shifting around heavy objects. He felt strangely alert, as if feeling eyes watching him from all sides. It made him antsy, and he didn't like the feeling, since he could never pinpoint where the watcher was at. After they'd set up the trap, all they had to do now was wait and come check it the next morning.

* * *

The trap was tripped, but empty the next morning. Wolf tracks were clear in the muddy ground, going right up to where the tripwire was, but there was a large stone dropped on it.

Apparently, the creature was smarter than they originally thought. They'd have to up their game if they wanted to catch it. Over the next week, the attacks increased, as did sightings. The creature was growing careless or confident, and sloppy. It'd drag it's kill behind a shed or simply start chowing on it right where it'd killed it, often picking up and easily running off with the remains when someone spotted it.

Then, there were the rumors that it was sniffing around town. People were growing warier than ever, and no matter what trick Ford and Fidds thought to pull, it always managed to evade capture. They could never try the same trick twice. It always remembered and always got away.

Nearing the end of the second week, Ford grew increasingly anxious over it. From everything he'd read, werewolves went completely feral and lost all of their humanity on the full moon, meaning they were much more vicious and much more likely to attack a human should they come across one.

He was so busy trying to catch the thing that he didn't notice Lee starting to slip back, growing grumpier and grumpier, sleeping all day and barely eating a thing. Stanley still tried to help his brother, when asked, but there was always an extra amount of grumbling and a certain, lethargic slowness to his actions, his usual brash, sarcastic attitude nearly gone with his weariness.

He declined going out to help them check the latest attempt at a trap to catch the werewolf. He moved with slow, weary movements up the stairs and into his room.

Tonight was the night before the full moon. Lee crawled into bed and snuggled deep beneath the blankets, window open to allow in the cool breeze that hard started to blow. He remained awake a long time, dozing off only to jerk awake at some noise or another. He was just starting to drift off when he realized something.

His brother and his friend were setting traps for a werewolf. A _WERE_ wolf, not a regular wolf. He leaped to his feet, tripped over one of his weights, and face-planted into the wooden floorboards. After several minutes of waiting for the pain to go away, he got more slowly to his feet and made his way downstairs, hoping to find his brother or some sign of where they had been headed to next.

Nothing. Nothing that could tell him where to look, at least. Finally, he made his way back upstairs, feeling a strong prickling at the back of his neck. Something was nagging at him. He closed and latched the door to his room, something he rarely did, and went to stand in front of the window. There was something he was missing, some clue or piece of the puzzle that, once found, would unravel the whole case, he just knew it.

He looked out at the darkening sky, noting the darkening clouds gathering to the northwest. Storms from that direction could be mild or crazy, but always brought torrents of rain, a good thing for the crops of surrounding farms, and could be expected around late summer or early fall.

Lee shook his head, frowning in thought. His mind traced back to when his brother had started going on about the case, but also of when he woke up, bitten and bleeding in the woods. He didn't notice the stars appearing in the sky. He only noticed the moon when a sharp pain flooded his body, as well as the shaggy fur starting to grow on his arms, and the sudden hunger he felt for fresh meat.

Panicking, he backed away from the window, eyes darting about for some means of escaping this, even as his human mind slipped away, his ears became pointed, a tail started to grow. It ached and burned, the changes did, and before long he could no longer stand. Collapsing with a dull whimper on the floor, he flinched and jerked and bucked and writhed in pain.

His face pushed out into a muzzle, his legs and arms thinned and grew lanky, covered in thick fur. His ears grew pointed, his teeth became sharp, and his hands and feet became paws. The tail stretched out and out, finally stopping. He whimpered, wincing as he felt a great pain stab through his whole body, his mind disappearing into darkness as the last of the thick fur grew on him.

His eyes closed tightly, and for several long moments, all was deathly silent, the only movement being the rapid rise and fall of the creatures chest, legs still entangled in human clothing.

The wolfs eyes opened suddenly, but were not big and wide and innocent. They were small, bare pinpricks of black surrounded by brown. With a hungry snarl, it stumbled to it's paws and turned sharp teeth on the clothes that hobbled it, ripping them to shreds in under a minute.

Freed of this burden, the wolf glanced around the unfamiliar place, looked to the window, and scented the air.

Backing up, the wolf raced forwards and jumped, claws scrambling and scratching the windowsill.

Skittering down the tiles of the roof, an easy leap to the ground, a brief pause to howl once towards the sky.

And then he was gone, with the light of the almost-full moon shining down on the forest.

* * *

 **Ta-da! And here, we have the second part of Moon's Light Madness! Can any of you guess what is happening to Lee? Did you know it was him until now?**

 **Please review!**


	11. Moon's Light Madness (Pt 3)

**Here ya' go, peeps! The next rendition of this little arc. I think, considering how long this has grown(compared to the, well, two chapters I first thought it'd be) that I'll add a short epilogue after this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 11:** Moon's Light Madness (Pt. 3)

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _The tune reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Mystery Trio  
Werewolf Au_

 _(The nameswap is in affect; in other words,  
Stanford is Author and Stanley is the Grunkle  
we've known for more than half the summer.)_

 **A`N** :  
Hm . . .So . . .well, this is getting longer and longer, I'll say that much. Enjoy!

Ford and Fidds returned late that night. They'd had to pull over and fix a popped tire halfway to town from the farm, and were currently exhausted. The front door was unlocked. Odd. The two men tried to remain quiet as they went inside, not wanting to disturb Lee.

Ford was growing increasingly anxious over the case. They weren't getting any closer to catching and subduing the werewolf, and if the full moon really did make them crazy, then there could be a lot of hurt people come the next night or so.

Not to long after, he finally went to his bed to hit the hay.

* * *

The storm was brewing overhead. The air crackled with electricity from the lightning to come, and the air heavy with rain yet to fall. It was muggy and hot, yet cold winds blew, only thickening the scents, telling with pure verity of what was to come, but without any real way to tell when it'd actually arrive.

The brown wolfs fur stood on end. He felt lethargic and lazy, but the back of his neck prickled. He remained alert. Lying underneath a bush and panting from his thick fur, but alert.

Evening was falling. Night would soon follow, as well as the full moon. The dark clouds overhead seemed to leech out more and more light as the shadows lengthened.

A burst of lightning crackled through the sky. An echoing roar of thunder followed. The wolf lifted it's head. It was nearly night. Something, TWO somethings, were stumbling around, waving about a beam of bright light that remained constant and moved with them, slicing through the dusky darkness.

Curious, and hungry, the wolf rose and padded silently after them. He scented the air. It was people; humans. Something inside him told him to walk away and leave them alone; humans weren't worth prey and brought tons more after them if you harmed them. Something about these two compelled him, however. Something about them made him want to follow them and see what they did.

He was suddenly aware of a third presence. It was strong, it's scent nearly hidden beneath the stench of crazed sickness. It made his fur crawl, made him want to run as far away as possible, so he would not catch it himself.

But he stayed. And he still followed the two humans, who were now just going in circles. The sick thing was following them, too, sniffing along their trail and smashing it's head into trees and logs and boulders with low groans and moans, speaking of pain inside, not from crashing into things.

The wolf kept a wary eye and ear on both the humans ahead and crazed thing behind him. He knew that either could lead to trouble, but would prefer humans over whatever made his fur itch and made him want to run far, far away until it was dead and gone and couldn't hurt him any longer.

Large, fat raindrops start to fall overhead, soon coming down in a rushing torrent. As it had been dry and hot before, this is a welcome surprise for most. But, for the two traveling ahead of him, he can tell that they do not enjoy it at all. Suddenly, the humans halt up ahead and there is a cry of pain and surprise. The light they carried flies high into the air, arcing up and falling down, farther away from them.

The wolf crept closer, easily making them out, but they obviously couldn't see, hear, nor scent him. What with the rain, though, scenting anything was becoming a challenge.

The larger human was bent over, holding one hindleg and cursing under his breath. The smaller looked around worriedly, blinking through the rain and dark, one hand on the others shoulder as it tried to scan the surrounding area.

Something shifted and was passed from one to the other. Before the wolf could figure out what it was, he spotted the sick thing, foaming at the mouth and glaring at the men below it, from atop a boulder above them. He pinned his ears to his head, and crept forward silently.

Just as it roared and lunged, the wolf suddenly lunged, too. The smaller human shrieked and the larger one stumbled to it's feet. The larger human's movements made a nasty sound, like cracking a bone between his own sharp teeth, and then slipped in the mud. Head banging against the boulder, he slid down, unmoving, but probably alive.

All this the wolf took in distantly; for when the lion had lunged, he had lunged, too, sinking his teeth into the back of it's neck. It was slightly bigger than him, but clumsier and slow. He had caught it's scruff, rather than any sort of spot that would allow him to actually kill it, and he was struggling to stay on. If thrown off, it could lunge and either bite his own throat out, or worse, bite him and leave him to grow crazed and pained for days before death.

The thing beneath him was a mountain lion; that much he could tell. While unable to throw him off, it stopped thrashing and pawed and scratched him, catching him on the sides and forelegs, but he clung on, using his front paws to smack at it's eyes in retaliation, and scrambling his hindlegs to stay on as he kicked it.

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed overhead; in a moment of distraction, the wolf was thrown, the lion lunging and snapping at him. Barely managing to use his front legs to hold it back, he yipped and growled in pain, his chest getting torn apart. Throwing it off, he leapt to his feet and lunged, snapping his jaws over it's throat, but it twisted beneath him and he only injured it, rather than kill it.

It suddenly went for the unconscious human, and a sudden, protective instinct reared up, nearly sending the wolf reeling. Nearly. Instead, he snarled vicously and lunged, ramming into it, and then it was all fur and claws and sharp teeth. Throwing it off once more, and covered in several claws marks, he stood protectively in front of the human, panting.

Suddenly, a bright beam of light lanced from behind him. Something, like thunder, but not like thunder, sounded behind him. He flattened his ears and howled in pain, his left stung and burning. The lion glared at him, a hole in it's chest. Red gushed from the hole and it collapsed, eyes becoming glassy and lifeless.

Adrenaline fading, the wolf hunched over, panting, fur soaked from blood and rain. He turned slowly. The beam of light the humans had held was gone. He turned to the bigger one, lying limply in the mud. He sniffed over it's chest, it's face, and felt it's breath tickling his whiskers. Once he confirmed that the human was alive, he felt an odd sense of releif and victory, but he didn't know why.

Why had he defended these humans? Why were they so important? What had driven him to defend them from what he would barely be able to defend himself from?

He could answer none of these. Suddenly, the previous booming sound, so like and yet so unlike thunder echoed; right in front of him. He jerked back with a scream of pain, rearing up on his hindlegs only to fall on his back in the mud, stunned.

He could hear heavy breathing, and someone muttering, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god_ ," followed by rustling and a groggy voice answering a higher-pitched, more panicky one.

There was more noise, and the sound of one or two somethings walking away. But he couldn't breath; or, he could, but every breath and movement hurt and his right shoulder burned and ached in agony. Eventually, he managed to roll over onto his side with a whimper. Rising shakily to his feet, the wolf limped slowly away, seeking shelter from the pounding rain.

He left behind a trail of blood.

* * *

It didn't take long to find the trail and get back to the car. And from there, it was easy to check one another over and confirm that they'd neither been bitten or sustained any other injuries. Besides a badly bruised knee, Ford was fine; the wolf had not bitten him.

Fiddleford had seen the lion, and he's done his studying before; it had been rabid. If he hadn't shot it with the pistol Ford had handed to him . . . he didn't want to dwell on that. As for the other thing . . . .

Fidds didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to go home, change into some fresh clothes, and go to bed. Ford insisted, however, so the man answered as well as he could, still shaky from the encounter. When he finished, there was a long silence.

"You killed the wolf?" he asked slowly, looking out into the rain.

Fiddleford was slow to reply. "I'm not sure." he finally said, starting to shake, cold; but mostly scared. "I'm not sure. It cried out and reared back, and it didn't move afterwards, but the flashlight gave out and I'm not sure if I killed it. I didn't hear anything that suggested it was moving around, at least." the smaller man admitted.

Ford dragged a hand down his face, rubbing at it and pushing his wet hair out of his ears. "So, either way, it's taken care of. We can come by tomorrow and see if we can find it . . ." he didn't say whether they would find it alive or merely it's corpse.

Fidds quietly started the car and turned into the road, heading for the cabin.

The heaviness in the air wasn't just from the rain, and both knew it.

Neither wanted to admit that they could've killed another human.

Then again, they might not've. But the heaviness didn't leave with the chance that it was still alive.

In fact, it only seemed to increase.

They weren't sure why.

* * *

The wolf limped, head low and tail dragging. He had no idea where he was headed. He focused more on putting one foot in front of the other. The full moon would be over after tonight, and only would he be in this wolfish form for the next day before turning back.

How he knew this, he wasn't sure. He just focused on breathing, keeping his cries as low as possible, and moving forward. For he felt that if he stopped moving, he wouldn't be able to move again. The rain eventually stopped, the clouds blown swiftly away by the wind.

The sun rose. The moon was gone. He remained a wolf. And he would remain that way until the next morning.

But now, with the full moon gone, a small flash of memory flitted into his thoughts, briefly breaking through the pain and sharp aches he felt all over. Two figures. One brown, one ginger. One his double, his twin. The other littler, and his friend.

He had a pack. He had others who could help him. He just needed to find them. And, just like that, he realized which way was home, turned, and limped as quickly as he could.

His fur was matted with clumps of dried blood, the scratches stinging or paining him sharply. It was nothing compared to the deep, burning agony in his left shoulder. Black spots were starting to dance in his vision when he limped out of the trees and into a small clearing. Lifting his head and waving it side to side, he managed to see around the dots and spot the cabin.

With a low whine, he started moving again, struggling against the pain. He had only just reached the wall when his legs gave out beneath him. He hurt to much and he'd had hardly any food the past few days. He simply didn't have the strength to keep moving.

That didn't stop him from trying, though. For several long minutes, he fought past the darkness encroaching on his vision, legs weakly scrabbling at the mud in an attempt to get upright again. Finally, however, exhausted and in pain, he went limp as darkness overtook him.

* * *

It's not that Fidds wasn't surprised and worried. He just felt a little numb to the situation, at present. Stanley had disappeared, again, and there were signs of a struggle in his room, which had been locked. Plus, they had confirmed that the mountain lion that had attacked them last night had had rabies, and the wolf had been no where to be seen, any signs of it erased by the rain.

. . . until they got back later today. They had been alarmed at the bloody trail, and even more so when they saw the wolf. Where Fidds reaction had been to freeze in shocked horror, Ford had walked right up to it, kneeling next to it and gently feeling it for breath or a pulse or something.

And now, here he was. Watching over the thing, wrapped in bandages and sprawled on the couch. Ford's explanation on the whole matter had been just a little _too_ convincing.

Mostly about how the full moon was over, so it wouldn't have much initiative to attack anyone, besides injured so badly that he was surprised it had managed all the way to their cabin. The fact that it had come to the cabin twice seemed to convince Ford himself more than anything that it was seeking help, and that it's instincts were the only reason it had attacked them last night, or whatever it was doing.

There were still a lot of questions that they didn't have answers for. Like why it was still in it's wolfish form in the daylight, among other things.

Fiddleford was broken out of his thoughts when he saw it shift next to him. He froze stiff, watching as it opened large brown eyes. It's gaze wandered sluggishly before locking onto the small professor. It tried to get up, only to cry out and fall back against the couch, wincing and flattening it's ears. It looked to Fidds beseechingly, and with a clear, distinct look of recognition in it's eyes.

The scientist slowly got up, and offered a hand for it to sniff. The wolf snuffed and nuzzled his palm before giving it a lick. It's tail beat twice against the couch, and it pricked it's ears.

One, Fidds now noticed, had a bit of a hole torn through the side, scabbed over, but it still looked a bit raw. It looked straight, not ragged like most of the other wounds on the poor thing. It was easy to guess and assume that the wolf, for whatever reason, had decided to fight the lion.

The wolf whined and lightly nudged his hand, licking his lips and shifting it's head a little. Fiddleford would've sworn he saw it roll it's eyes. Tentatively, he reached down and patted the wolf between the ears.

"Well, I guess you're friendly enough." he mumbled, feeling the coarse softness of the fur.

The wolf barked quietly and tossed it's head, rolling it's eyes again. It left a distinct air of being exasperated.

Fidds couldn't help a small smile. "You're almost worse than my friend Stanley." he told the thing, giving it another pat.

The wolf stared up at him, then barked again, almost urgently, and tossed it's head, eyes locked on the man.

Fidds raised a brow. "Well, that's odd. What's wrong?" he asked curiously.

The wolf rolled it's eyes again, and stared hard at Fiddleford. He barked again, louder, rougher, and struggled as if to stand, nearly succeeding before Fidds gently pushed him back down.

"Now stop that!" he scolded. "You're injured pretty badly, so unless you want it to get worse and cripple yourself, then lay down and be still." he told it sternly, half-glaring at it.

The wolf only stared up at him, a familiar look in the brown eyes, besides anticipation.

Fidds sighed and sat next to it again, gently running a hand through it's brown fur. "I take it back, you're acting _worse_ than Stanley . . ." he looked over the creature again, startled by the intensity of it's gaze.

 _'Brown eyes, brown fur . . . completely adamant about moving around when severely injured . . . OH MY GOD . . . .'_

Fiddleford stared at the wolf, seeing it in a completely new light. "St- _stanley_?" he squeaked out in disbelief.

The wolf nodded it's head and yipped quietly.

Fidds eyes rolled up in his head and he fell limp against the ground.

Stanley watched this and growled in irritation, but remained still. His shoulder hurt like heck.

* * *

 **I just get the feeling that ol' Fiddles is/was in denial about it and the information was too much to process all at once. Especially considering that just the other night he was worried he'd killed someone, and it makes it worse that it was one of his best friends.**

 **Okay, so, I'm deciding to replace the previous challenge with a new one. But first, here's the last one decoded:**

 **"INJURED, BURNED, AS A YOUNG CHILD  
** **THOUGHT TO BE CRAZY NONE~TO~MILD  
** **PASSED FROM DOCTOR TO DOCTOR FOR HIS QUIRKS  
** **BUT NOTHING EVER SEEMED TO DO THE WORKS.**

 **BULLIES AND JERKS TO TORMENT AND TAUNT  
** **AND HE DID HIS BEST TO IGNORE THE JAUNTS  
** **JERK~TAUNTS, JERKHEADS, HE PREVAILED THROUGH  
** **UNTIL HE MET THE CONMAN HIS PARENTS KNEW. . .**

 **FROM HIM, HE LEARNED TO REPLICATE  
** **AND HIDE HIS EMOTIONS FROM THOSE HE HATES,  
** **BUT NOW HE HAS EVEN MORE TO HIDE  
** **AND A CERTAIN ENEMY HIS ATTACK WILL BIDE."**

 **Basically about Human!Bill in chapter five, "** The Hand that Attacks the Sife-R. **" I'll post the next challenge in the next drabble. I have some requests to go fulfill now. :-)**

 **Please review!**


	12. Curious, Childish Love

**Sorry about being gone awhile before posting the last drabble. I had some trouble figuring it out. This next one is a request-drabble-doodly-dop that I'm doing! Hurray!**

 **Request from "** look out(guest) **":**

 **"** hey could u do  
a mabill monsterfalls fic **"**

 **I, myself, am not a personal fan of that particular pairing, but I think I know how to make this work. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 12:** Curious, Childish Love

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Bill is naturally curious. He's lived with the Wildlings, the group_  
 _of people/monsters who first took him in when he became a_  
 _human, for several months. Now, he's staying at the Mystery_  
 _Shack with some of the other Wildlings for the summer._  
 _He's still curious about something though, after a visit_  
 _to the lake. And he thinks Mer-Mabel can help him . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Monster Falls_

 **A`N** :  
 _A request that I'm not sure exactly how to work with. I, personally, am not a fan_  
 _of Mabel/Bill pairings. I have ways to work-a-round certain things though whilst_  
 _still getting out the wanted thing. Just to warn everyone, there is_  
 _going to be a lot of missing context in terms of Oc monster characters; that's_  
 _alright, since I'm going to be making an official stand-alone story soon,_  
 _and all the characters you don't know here will be revealed there. Enjoy!_

Bill stared up at the sky. He was next to the little kitty pool thing that they'd set up in the backyard for Mabel. Dipper was a little ways off, being instructed by Stancio on how to better operate his deer legs when resting, so as to be more comfortable. Just a short ways away behind the tree line, he could hear Wendy and Marci arguing about how better to clean their fur; shampoo or this strange flower-and-bark stuff the other used.

Kaden and Stanley were arm wrestling on the porch, neither really getting a leg up on the other, both struggling as they had been the last fifteen, twenty, fifty-nine minutes(bloody stubborn gargoyles; will they ever give it up? Probably not). Wilma was discussing the the natural qualities of her tears with Stanford, who kept wanting to use his own claws to scratch himself and test it, even though she repeatedly had to stop him from injuring himself, especially with his wings, the dumb-old Sphinx.

Bill finally sat up, stretched, yawned, and declared, "Well, I'm bored now. Mabel? Wanna go down to the lake?" he asked.

Mabel 'sat up', as well, and looked over at him, the pink fins on her forearms flaring out, like the larger fin on the end of her long, pink, scaly tail. "Don't see why not." she replied cheerfully. "You just gotta get the wagon and fill it up."

Bill stood and gave a mock salute before running off to do just that. It was easy enough to find the wagon, pull it over to the hose attached to the house and top it off. It was harder to pull around once it was full of water. And increasingly so by the time he'd helped Mabel and got her into it. He was sweating by the time they'd gotten onto the road to town, puffing in the summers heat.

As they went, Mabel would occasionally splash him, to help him cool off, but Bill was still ready to collapse by the time they were in sight of the lake. He kept at it, however, ignoring the limits of his 'weak' human form(not like he remembered being a demon in the first place, but still) and managed to make it to the lake shore.

Where he promptly collapsed, wheezing and making no move to get more comfortable. Mabel frowned and gently splashed a little more water on him, despite being almost out in her wagon. Bill hardly reacted to it, breathing fast and one arm curled beneath him awkwardly. She pouted and splashed him again, leaning over to lightly shake his shoulders.

"Bill!" she reprimanded lightly. "If you're feeling tired, let me know! Taking a break isn't a bad thing. Dipper has trouble and he's older than you, besides having extra legs to hold himself up with."

Bill slowly dragged himself up, sitting up and leaning hard against her wagon. He shrugged. "S-sorry. . . ." he panted, closing his eyes again. "Didn't want . . . water . . .you run out . . . heh'boy . . . " he huffed, curling in on himself with another heavy pant.

Mabel rolled her eyes and pushed her tail hard against the bottom of the wagon, managing to spring out into the water of the lake. She resurfaced and exhaled, water running down her shoulders from the gills on her neck. She swam closer and scootched in the shallows, using her tail to splash Bill once close enough.

Said child, just starting to dry off and regain his breath, cried out in protest to this, sitting up and pushing back his soaked locks to stare at her. "Hey!" he exclaimed, then giggled a little. He jumped in the water and splashed her, feeling much better. Mabel laughed with him, splashing him back.

The game soon took them deeper and deeper into the water, to the point where they were far from shore and Bill was paddling constantly now to stay afloat. He didn't mind, though. Occasionally, he'd dive under the water, trying to follow after Mabel, who's laughter and speech was warped to his human ears under the surface, but still mostly-discernible.

While he didn't try to breathe under the waves like his friend, he didn't think much of taking a deep breath before diving. Meaning, most times he resurfaced, he was dizzy and seeing little black dots, his body aching for air. Being as unfamiliar as he was with the human body, however, Bill primarily ignored these signs of needing more oxygen that he was receiving, passing it off as just a "weird human swimming thing" and kept doing what he was doing.

After a particularly deep dive, however, Bill was having trouble focusing. When Mabel circled him worriedly, he gestured that he was fine. His mind just felt foggy . . . he startled to paddle upwards, but his movements were slow and uncoordinated.

She circled him again, and again he gestured that he was okay. He kept trying to swim upwards unaided, but he felt like he was sinking lower . . . .

Bill blinked his eyes open. He hadn't even realized that they were closed. Finned arms were wrapped around his chest, underneath his armpits, moving at a fast speed upwards. He tried to take in a breath, but only breathed in more lake water. Uncomprehending the situation, he panicked and tried to breath again, only to suck in even more water.

They broke the surface. Bill couldn't take in Mabel's frantically asked questions. He was too busy trying to cough up water and suck in as much air as possible. Darkness was creeping in on his vision from the lack of oxygen; he wasn't ridding himself of the water fast enough, nor getting enough air . . .

He suddenly felt lips on his own, and then his lungs filling with air being forced into him. He couldn't understand what was going on, focusing to much on coughing up buckets of water, it felt like, when the lips pulled back. He was still heaving for breath, however, when the lips reconnected and forced more air inside him. Again, they removed themselves, and he finally managed to cough up the last of the water, breathing on his own with half-ragged, shuddering breaths.

The darkness that had hung in front of his vision retreated, and he could finally take in his surroundings. Mabel was holding him tightly to her, worried brown eyes staring into his own baby blue. They were in the middle of the lake, far away from any shore. Bill trembled, from cold and his recent ordeal. Crying, he latched onto the mermaid, who hugged him back, murmuring reassurances.

Slowly, gently cradling him, she swam back towards shore.

* * *

A few days later, Mabel and Bill found themselves alone outside, Mabel in the kitty pool and Bill leaning on it's edge, staring up at the evening sky. Everyone else was either inside or back at the Wildlings cave, eating dinner or talking or practicing new skills.

Evening soon turned to night, full of stars. Bill sighed contentedly.

"Bill, look!" Mabel suddenly whispered, excited. Water sloshed around as she moved closer to the eight-year-old, pointing out a streak flying overhead. "A shooting star! Make a wish, quick!" she encouraged.

Bill stared up at it, thought quickly, and silently made his wish. The star disappeared, and he turned to smile at her, toying around with a small flashlight. "Thanks, Shooting Star, for letting me have the wish." he told her sincerely.

She gave him a toothy grin, nodding. "Of course! What'd you wish for?" she asked.

He blushed, but scrambled for an excuse. "Doesn't telling your wish make it not come true?" he shot back, playfully hitting her shoulder. But gently, gently.

Mabel scoffed in reply. "Ordinarily, yes, but I _am_ a shooting star, too!" she countered, reminding him of the nickname the boy always called her.

Bill hadn't thought of that. "Oh, well . . . okay, but don't laugh." he pleaded, sounding oddly anxious.

Mabel nodded, putting on a serious face for a moment. While unable to hold it long, Bill nodded to the sentiment of it.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well . . . I wished that I might get to try kissing a certain Shooting Star again." he blushed heavily, though it was barely seen in the dark.

Mabel had to take a moment to process and understand. She furrowed her brows. "You mean like . . . that thing I did out on the lake? T-to save you?" she asked, trying to clarify. She had been honestly terrified when _IT_ had happened, and kept beating herself up about not paying closer attention to him, aware of his view of "weird human things".

He nodded, looking down and ducking his head. "Y-yeah, the k-kissing thing." he answered, surprisingly shy.

Mabel smiled a little, gently lifting his chin so he was looking at her. From this angle, him looking up at her, his one visible eye seemed to reflect the stars. Leaning forward, she gently kissed him on the lips.

Bill, while startled, closed his eyes and slowly leaned into it. After about a minute or so, they pulled back, Bill smiling dreamily while Mabel grinned at him. She could recognize the "lovestruck puppy" look about the boy.

"So, how did you like you're first kiss?" she asked teasingly.

Bill shook himself and smiled his usual seemingly-impossibly-wide grin at her. "It felt like kissing a pretty star." he answered truthfully. He suddenly leaned forward and hugged her. Mabel hugged him back, surprised at the suddenness of the gesture.

"Thank you." he whispered into her hair.

Mabel smiled softly, pulling back a little to lay a kiss on his forehead. "Your welcome." she replied.

* * *

 **Well, "** look out **", I hope you enjoyed this, as well as everyone else who reads this. I tend to lean towards the "MermandoXMabel" pairing, but having it placed in Monster Falls made it a little easier to do. The two aren't exactly going to start dating after this, but Bill was just curious about kissing in general. We all gotta start wondering at some point, right? :-)**

 **If Bills experience of drowning felt/seemed unrealistic, think of it this way; he was once a demon incapable of death/getting injured. Now, as a human, he has no memories of his past and has little idea of how vulnerable he really is, nor what his body is telling him most of the time, so he passes it off as a "weird human thing" and typically ignores it.**

 **Because of this, he'll throw himself in dangers way, and come out injured but ignoring his wounds. Therefore, since he didn't know what was going on in the first place, he didn't react in a "human" way to it. Only afterwards, and mostly subconsciously, did he realize his brush with death, and then his eight-year-old emotions kicked in and he freaked out over it.**

 **Challenge time!**

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** **Drgs z sfnzm lm gsv ozpv  
** **Gsv qlb xlfow mvevi yv uzpvw**

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** **Wlvhm'g ivzorav, hl hzw!  
** **Gszg srh grnv rh ifmmrmt lfg  
** **Zmw srh droo rh dzb~gl~hglfg.**

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** **Ivhxfvw yb z hgzi hl krmp  
** **Zmw zugvidziwh, sv klmwvih hl  
** **'Dszg rh z prhh orpv? Nzb R pmld?'**

 **Hl sv nzwv z drhs  
** **Zmw drgs z ozwb-urhs  
** **Hsv nzwv rg szkkvm  
** **Lm gsv tvg-tl."**

 **Ta-da! New challenge! Can you decode it? If you do, make sure that you review your request along with it! Enjoy and please review~!**


	13. Of New Friends and Old Twins

**Request from "** Guest(guest) **":**

 **"** Can you do one ware Dipper,  
Mabel,Pasifica and Bill are ghosts inhabiting the now old abandoned north west household?  
like a little ghost family :3 **"**

 **If you don't mind me adding in some Little Monsters!Ford and Lee and Fidds and some others in as well; then yes, I can. It can be sorta like the episode "** The Inconveniencing **"! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 13:** Of New Friends and Old Twins

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _In the course of meeting another set of monster-ified twins(in their own words)  
and meeting up with the werewolf Ash, Fidds, Lee, and Ford are checking out a supposedly  
haunted house._

 _But as they continue to horse around and investigate  
_ _the place, they're beginning to suspect that the haunts who reside_

 _there are none-to-friendly . . . but if that_ IS _so, then why is one offering  
_ _them cookies and another throwing glitter and confetti all over the place whilst the other two glare at them?_

 **Universe** :  
 _Young!Monster Falls_  
 _(The Stan twins basically born/turned into_  
 _monsters when little and it's normal and junk.  
Like most people in the Falls are monsters  
_ _and the world knows and everyone's_ _basically cool with it.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _I wasn't quite sure exactly where to take the Little Monsters!Au next, but this request has given me the perfect opportunity. However, what-with what I have in mind, this'll either be a very LONG chapter or cut into two different ones. Either way, enjoy!_

Fidds felt his heart stop when he saw the herd stampeding towards them. It felt like he was screaming internally, while all that escaped was a muted whimper of fear.

He closed his eyes tight and hunkered down, reaching out to pull the twins with him. Only for his hands to grasp on air. He opened his eyes, spotting a flicker of movement to his right, spotting the retreating wings and tail of a certain Sphinx. Next thing he knew, something was gripping the back of his shirt and warm air was huffing on his neck.

Before he could even scream, Fiddleford was suddenly jerked up and to the left, back and legs banging painfully into a pine tree. More huffing and some quiet growling above him, and whatever was holding him dragged him even higher. The herd of deer-people stampeded below him, the tops of the antlers just inches from his shoes.

The thing holding him grunted and scootched higher, farther away from the ground. For several long moments, the herd thundered underneath him. Several long moments after the herd had disappeared and the sound of them gone, Fidds hung in midair, back to a tree. Finally working up the nerve to look around, he spotted Ford perched on a tree branch several feet in front of him, claws digging in and eyes squeezed shut.

Amicus, his owl, suddenly flew in front of the Sphinx, hooting and landing on his shoulder. The thing holding him was panting, breaths hots and constant on the back of the human teens' neck. When Fidds tried to look up, he was suddenly dropped from about ten, maybe fifteen feet up. He yelped, hitting his arm during the tumble.

Slowly sitting up, he peered into the branches above him, quickly spotting Lee. The young gargoyle was panting, claws gripping the side of the tree tightly, his tail wrapping around the trunk and one wing thrown out to brace himself against a thin branch. A bit of cloth was in his jaws, and Fidds reached back to feel where his shirt had been torn.

The gargoyle suddenly dropped, landing easily, but rubbing his jaw after spitting the fabric scrap out. "Ow, okay, that hurts." he whined, before picking up a small pebble and chucking it into the neighboring tree. There was a distinct _tap_ as it hit the wood, and Ford dropped down a moment later, using his wings to slow his fall, landing gracefully, but clearly shaken up.

"Okay, that was . . . interesting. What do you think happened that made them bolt like that? It wasn't us, or else . . ." Ford stopped at the death glare his brother was giving him, still rubbing his jaw.

"You coulda helped me save this Nerd, Poindexter." he snapped at his twin, rubbing his jaw again with a scowl. "I may be strong and indestructible, but I'm not quite _that_ strong! What if his shirt had ripped sooner? Huh? Then what?!" he seemed more worried and less angry than Fidds originally thought, but it seemed to hit the right chords in the other, as the Sphinx ducked his head and flattened his ears.

"Boys, boys, settle down." he told them, before pointing towards the clearing. "Why don't we find out what happened, huh?" he tried to redirect. It seemed to work, as both shot eachother just one more set of looks, one apologizing and the other annoyed before they turned and headed for the clearing.

What they saw was not what they first thought it would be. A mountain lion cub, with large, black-streaked blond wings and long dirty-blonde hair, was laughing hard at the irritated, nervous expression of a deer-boy fawn laying next to her. Well, laying for a deer, sitting for a deer-person.

For a moment, though, they weren't even sure what it was. The thing sitting next to the Were(for it wasn't a Sphinx nor a regular lion) was white.

Quietly, all three crept closer. The two immediately froze and stiffened, relaxing when they spotted the twins, but the Were-Lion yelped when she saw Fidds. "Human!" she shrieked, lunging.

Fiddleford found himself shoved onto his back, staring up into narrowed, suspicious eyes of the lion. From this close proximity, it was easier to make out it's features. Though he wasn't sure he wanted to if it meant being pinned.

It looked mostly like a mountain lion, with shaggy, dirty-blond fur, grey eyes slitted in a cat-like manner, though were almost wide enough to pass as human. Wings, feathered wings, sprout from the beasts shoulders, similar to a Pegasus, with the same dirty-blond color as the fur, but with small, blurred streaks of black, like running a crayon over a picture filled with color.

Sharp, black claws reveal themselves, ears laid back and pearly, sharp teeth peeking out from beneath her lips. A strange mane of long, dirty blond hair hangs from its head, running down its short neck and hanging about its shoulders and a little on its back.

The monster lightly pokes it's nose on his chest, snuffing loudly, before backing off and allowing him to sit up. "Sorry," she apologized, and in that moment, Fidds realized that the creature was smaller than he was, despite the fact that it felt a mite heavier. "Was checking for a gun." she added, as if trying to justify her actions and escape punishment.

The other, the deer-person and clearly a boy, watched the whole thing curiously. It happened too fast for either of the Pines twins to react, but now they stood defensively by their friends' sides.

The deer-boy stood slowly, walking over and offering a hand. "M-my names Stancio; sorry about Marci, she's can be a little defensive for me." Fidds took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and found himself taller than the boy, who was only an inch or so taller than the twins. "I'm a Cervitaur; half deer, half person. Marci's a, er. . .sorry, I forget how you word it."

"Winged Were-Mountain Lion." she replied absently, licking a front paw, which seemed to shift from a paw-like state to a more hand-like one at will, smoothing down some ruffled feathers on her wings. Now, standing just before the snowy-white creature, he could make it out better.

Furry deer ears replaced his human ones, like the Cervitaurs seen previously, but were white in color, the skin beneath the fur pale pink. His human skin is pale, a milky white color. The hair on top of his head is a pale, white-ish blond, and the fur on his deer flanks white as snow, with pale grey spots on his sides and flank nearer the tail; a fawns spots, Fidds thinks. His pale jade eyes watch the three newcomers nervously, and his hooves, which are white-ish pink in color, rather than black, shuffle nervously.

As far as clothes go, the extant seemed to be a dark grey sweater of sorts on Stancio and some sort of fur vest on on Marci. "So, what are you three townsfolk doing this deep in the forest, anyhow?" Stancio asked, slowly settling his hindlegs down, so he was sitting. Ironically, it made him taller than the Pines Twins.

"'Townsfolk'?" Fidds replied, confused, while Ford basically went on to explain to the Cervitaur and Were-Lion how they'd found the herd a few weeks ago and were investigating further.

"Ah, fellow explorers. I like it." Marci announced, looking over with a clear, playful glint in her eyes.

"So, what are you two doing? And what started the stampede?" Lee asked, crossing his arms and eyeing them.

Stancio's eyes widened. "Oh, bells and breezes, we didn't realize anyone was there! I'm so sorry!" the fawn exclaimed, wringing his hands nervously, ears flattening.

"I basically pounced on ol' white-butt here and scared the rest of the herd off. They don't really like me hanging with my brother." Marci answered for him, though her ears, two, laid back, but only for a moment.

"Brother?" questioned Ford, perking up. "Did you guys get turned, too?"

"'Too'?" echoed Stancio, ears pricking towards him. "You three brothers or something?" he asked, glancing between them.

"Try twins to this Poindexter," deadpanned Lee, jabbing a thumb towards his brother. "The human is a friend. No family relation. We were turned when we were real little."

Marci smiled, revealing sharp teeth once more. "We're twins, too!" she exclaimed, wings shifting on her back. "Turned when we were six. We're not actually from around this area, but our parents decided that it'd be alright if we stayed. Stancio stuck to the herd and I wandered the woods with another Were."

"You're twins?" Fidds asked quizzically, turning this new information over in his head. Apparently being related didn't seem to affect what you turned into. He had first suspected that, seeing as both of the Pines Twins had sharp teeth, tails, and wings, despite the other obvious differences. Every day, it seemed, some theory or another of his was being rewritten or proven in a way he hadn't thought of before.

Stancio looked down with a nod, while Marci bared her teeth in what was definitely a menacing manner. "Hey! You got a problem with that?" she snapped.

Fiddleford held his hands up in a peace-seeking gesture, shaking his head. "No, no, it's just . . . unusual, is all. One born an albino and the other with six fingered hands." he answered. When the cub had been right on top of him, it'd been easy to see the extra claws on each paw, and the extra digits attached to them.

Marci's fur bristled. "So what if I have six fingers? It just means one extra claw that could be digging into your flesh!" she threatened.

"I have six fingered hands." Ford interjected. Attention and thoughts immediately shifting, she turned to him. The Sphinx was holding out one hand-like paw, six fingers splayed. Slowly, she laid hers against his; they matched.

She smiled. Stancio smiled, too. "So, you guys are explorers, right? Investigators of the unknown beyond the unknown?" he asked, making a sweeping gesture with one hand indicating his white form, besides his sister.

Lee nodded. "Yeah? So?"

"Well," Marci picked up, "we were going to go check out this supposedly haunted mansion that's sitting up in the hills near the mountains. It's actually not to far from town. We were hoping to go investigate it later tonight. Wanna join us?" the lion girl offered.

Ford immediately nodded. "Definitely!" he grinned, readjusting his glasses real quick.

Lee shrugged. "Sure, don't see why not." he smiled a little.

Fidds wasn't so hasty to agree. "How old are you two?" he asked.

"Twelve." they answered simultaneously.

"Hm," Fiddleford hummed in thought. "I'm not so sure." he finished.

"Aw, come'on Fidds! Please?" Fidds looked down at Lee, the gargoyle having already dragged his twin to his side, standing in front of the human teen.

And giving twin sets of puppy-dog faces that he couldn't say no too. With a sigh, he nodded. Four distinct cheers rang out, and Fidds dragged a hand down his face.

"What am I getting myself into?" he groaned quietly.

A lot, that's what.

* * *

 **Okay, so, we didn't quite get to the mansion; but that's okay! We'll be getting to it right soon, I promise, alright? It'll be in the next drabble or so that we go there. I just really, really needed to introduce these two new monster siblings. If any of you recognize them; it's because they've been mentioned in the previous drabble.**

 **They'll be appearing in the separate, multi-chapter Monster Falls fanfic that I'll be getting to soon. Don't worry, all shall be explained soon enough.**

 **Enjoy and please review!**


	14. Moon's Light Madness (Pt 4, End)

**Heya, peeps! This is the final rendition of "** Moon's Light Madness **"! Hope you've all enjoyed!**

* * *

 **Drabble 14:** Moon's Light Madness (Pt. 4, End)

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _The tune reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on . . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _Mystery Trio  
Werewolf Au_

 _(The nameswap is in affect; in other words,  
Stanford is Author and Stanley is the Grunkle  
we've known for more than half the summer.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _Okay, so, here we are again. I know that you've probably been_  
 _wondering where this was going to end at, given the last note_  
 _the previous drabble on this left on. Well, let me reassure you_  
 _That this is still going to be finished! Don't worry at all!_

Stanley stared down at Fidds, unconscious on the floor, groaning internally and silently cursing whatever bit him in the first place. He could hardly move without pain, though. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on; all he knew was that as soon as the Professor had said his name, something clicked. It was like a floodgate opened and allowed him to view all(or most) of his memories.

He remembered being human, Fiddlefords name, his brother, the happenings of the last month or so. He couldn't recall ever feeling so . . . human, I guess is the word for it, while still in a wolfish form. Not even when he was two days from the new moon and could remember the most, even recognizing his brother as human standing in front of him.

Lee shook himself of these thoughts, instead looking around and waiting for either his brother to show or for Fiddle-forks to wake up. He could also lay a reason as to why he took on a rabies-infested lion last night. The instinct that had suddenly shown itself; his packbrother was in trouble, and his packfriend. If he hadn't intervened . . . they would both be hurt bad or dead.

 _' Packbrother? Packfriend?'_ he contemplated, mentally shaking his head. _'This feels very . . . weird . . . '_ he rolled his eyes at the repeatedly added 'pack' to the front of most words, the human in him finding it slightly annoying that he couldn't apply the terms without it, while the wolf half was content with it, seeing it as a mark of close friendship and familiar bonds.

Before too much longer, Fidds woke up again. He was quick to confirm that the werewolf was indeed his friend Stanley, leaving the room in a hurry. He returned shortly afterwards, spreading a thin, soft blanket over him and muttering something under his breath about potions and mountains before leaving again.

The wolfish side to Lee whined at the leaving of his packfriend, while his human side realized how empty his stomach felt and silently cursed while he waited for Fidds to return.

It wasn't that long, actually, before the short man returned, though he was carrying a small collection of papers and a map or two. Dragging a side table closer, he started to spread them out, rambling aloud for his friends benefit. While Lee rolled his eyes at this, he did prick his ears forward to listen, having nothing better to do.

" . . .anford discovered a reoccurring plant described in all the stories, and luckily the ones found around here in Gravity Falls match up to a 'T'. Now the only real tricky part is getting up there and actually locating it. Several things hint to one mountain in the nearby area, but it'll still be a bit of a hike. At first, we weren't sure how, er, _feral_ you would be, so the plan was to have one go and the other stay. I do believe, however, after you've healed up a bit, that we can all go on this trip."

Lee nodded slightly, yipping quietly and slowly straining his nose towards the table, trying to ask to see. It took Fiddleford only a moment to figure out what the other wanted.

"Oh! Here, um," he pulled down a few papers, one a map and the other three ink-drawn pictures with descriptions of the plants, which, from reading some of the descriptions of the nearest one, seemed to indicate a cure. He whined and strained for one, and Fidds, taking it to mean something else, pulled back.

"Well, let's see here," he adjusted his glasses a moment. "'The Cydonia Moschata is an uncommon, medium-sized plant and can be found only high in the mountains. It blooms in late spring. It has narrow, barb shaped leaves, which are usually dark green. It also grows decent sized flowers, which can be dark purple and light purple. These plants grow separated by a fair distance from each other, and can be used as medicine.'" he recited.

Lee groaned internally, rolling his eyes, but paying a little more attention when "poison" was mentioned.

" . . .oisonous, and the odds for it to be helpful rather than harmful are fifty-fifty, but the most recent story, from around a seventy-five years ago, mention finding a garden filled with various plants, including the Cydonia Moschata, that had an unidentifiable language engraved in a boulder near the gate. With luck, we might be able to figure it out and learn exactly what that's all about."

Lee stopped paying attention afterwards, and not to long afterwards, Ford finally arrived. His gaze swept over the professor, the wolf, and the half-scattered research, but he seemed to not really see it. Hair a mess, clothes disheveled, thick layer of stubble coating his jaw and bags under his eyes.

In other words, he was a mess.

Lee barked, tailing thumping against the couch happily.

Ford walked over and stood peering down at the wolf. "I didn't see any sign of Lee." was all he said, but he sounded defeated. Solve one problem, lose another entirely.

Fidds cleared his throat. "Um, actually Ford, ah, how do I put this . . . .Lee's right here." the smaller man gestured to the wolf laying on the couch, who only nodded his head to try and help confirm that.

Ford narrowed his eyes crouching next to the wolf's head, staring into it's eyes. "Hm . . . how can we be sure?" he asked.

Lee groaned internally and rolled his eyes at his brothers paranoia. Ford got up a moment later and left the room. He was soon back, but with a framed picture of him and Lee when they were twelve with the Stano'War.

"Which one is me in this picture?" Ford demanded, holding it close enough so the wolf wouldn't have to strain.

Lee's eyes flicked from one to the other. The two were twins; and in this particular image, they'd ditched their shirts and glasses, having recently took a dip in the ocean, so their hair was dripping and not in their usual styles, either.

After a long moment, he tapped the one on the left, that didn't have a band-aid on the jaw; that had been there for awhile, after a bout of roughhousing a few days prior.

Eyes widening, Ford withdrew, mumbling under his breath and heading for the door.

"Wait, where are you going? Is the werewolf Stanley or what?" Fiddleford demanded, suddenly looking very nervous.

Ford paused by the door, glancing back. "It's him all right . . . I'm gonna go get cleaned up. . . ." that said, he left the room.

* * *

Two days later -and after a long night of discussion- the Mystery Trio were hiking up into the mountains. It would be at least a two day trip to get to the place, and after that, it could take anywhere from a day to five days to search the surrounding area for the garden. Luckily, werewolves heal very quickly. The bullet to the shoulder, once removed, healed almost overnight, and was no just a scab, and the worst of the clawmarks thin, tiny cat scratches and on the mend.

In the meantime, as they hiked up there, Ford was asking questions a mile a minute about werewolves. Lee wasn't necessarily a patient guy, and could only put up with it for so long before threatening to give him a left hook if he wouldn't shut up.

When they stopped for the night, Lee didn't pull out any of his own gear. Sure, he helped the other two nerds set up, but he didn't do anything with his own stuff. Just watched the darkening sky or watched the woods surrounding them. When night did come, he only pulled put a blanket and wrapped it around himself, laying with his back to the small fire.

And with the moon, came the changes. Fidds looked away, but Ford couldn't help but watch. In under a minute, there was a wolf, not a human shape, under the blanket. Lee poked his snout out, before slowly standing and shaking the blanket off. He was still tangled up in his clothes, though, and couldn't get them off. With a bark and a yip, he managed to get his brothers attention to the problem.

With a small laugh, Ford shook his head and helped ease the clothes off. With an appreciative now and another quiet yip, Lee then started to walk off.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Fidds demanded.

Lee barely paused, looking over his shoulder to bark, wagged his tail, locked eyes a brief moment with his twin, and then he was gone.

Even in a different form, the two could have a whole conversation with just one look. Though there were less full sentences now, and 'pack' was added to the front of 'friend' and 'brother'.

"It's fine Fidds, he'll be back before long." Ford reassured.

* * *

At the end of a long day, they set up camp at the designated spot. There were several places where the garden or it's remains could be, and searching for them first thing tomorrow was next on the list.

But when Ford was suddenly awoken by his frantic wolf-brothers yips and nudges later that night -or, more like, early that morning- and holding something in his mouth.

"Lee, calm down! What is it?" he asked.

Lee whined and dropped what he was holding. A large rock, with strange runes carved into it. Ford was quick to grab his notepad and start copying them down. It was only afterwards that he realized his brother was scratching letters into the dirt next to his sleeping bag, but they were messy and illegible.

He gave his brother a gently rub between the ears. "Sorry, bro, I can't make it out. Tomorrow, though, okay?

Lee rolled his eyes and whined, pointing his snout to where the sky was already starting to brighten with the dawn.

Ford rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, right." he replied sheepishly.

Lee did a sortof-shrug and moved over to his own pack, taking his piles of clothes, bundled in the blanket, in his jaws. Pausing by the rock, he managed to get both in his mouth before dashing off into the trees.

Roughly an hour later, the other two members of the Mystery Trio were ready to go . . . except that Stanley hadn't returned yet. Then, they heard shouting.

"Ford! Fiddle-sticks! Get your butts over here already!" he shouted.

The two scrambled their stuff together and bolted that way, huffing and out of breath when they got there. And there stood Lee, leaning nonchalantly against a tree near an old stone wall and rusty gate.

Beyond the gate and wall stood rows upon rows of plant beds, some empty and other full to bursting. "Well, by my Nana's clear Silver Mirror! When'd you find this place?" Fidds exclaimed, going to peer over the wall.

Lee flinched, then shrugged with a grin. The blanket was thrown over his shoulder, and the stone was placed next to a bunch of other stones, though now the runes looked like little more than random squiggles, all alike. "Found it last night, but couldn't exactly open the gates. I could practically smell the, er, what'd you call it? Sight-own-ya Move-shc-kautta? Whatever, I just couldn't get in to nab some." he seemed a tad annoyed, but otherwise said nothing more.

"'Cydonia Moschata', Stanley." Ford corrected, moving to try the gate. "And it's a major part of the cure we're going to nee-"

"Don't touch the gate!" Lee suddenly snapped, grabbing his brother and yanking him back. Fidds jumped back from the wall.

"What? What is it?" the shorter man demanded.

Lee only shook his head, looking away and holding out his right hand. The palm and fingers were burnt in a pattern, as if had gripped a red-hot pole. "Got burnt." he mumbled.

Fidds cursed under his breath and pulled out the first-aid kit, making the other sit down so he could tend to it. Meanwhile, Ford took a closer look at the bars. Using a stick to rub a little of the rust off, he noticed that the handle actually looked rather reflective. Tentatively, he reached out and touched it, but nothing happened. It looked familiar . . . and then he realized from where.

"Silver . . ." he said aloud, making the others turn to him. "It's silver; silver hurts werewolves."

Lee groaned and rubbed at his face with his other hand. "Kinda wish someone had told me that earlier . . . " he grumbled, flexing his bandaged, burnt hand with a wince.

Fidds rolled his eyes and packed up the kit. "Don't whine so much about it. Let's just go in and find what we're looking for."

"I don't think that-till be necessary, young'ins." an old, gravelly voice creaked.

A man, hunched over and wearing a ratty cloak, the hood pulled up to hide his head and face. He was bent over, hints of a long, grey beard evident. He stood just on the other side of the gate, watching but making no move to touch it or leave.

"I had a feeling, I had a feeling, I did, that someone woul' be coming tip-toein' up to my moun'ain."

"Who are you?" Ford asked.

The man shrugged. "I'm younger than this gar'en yet as old as the town be'ow. Welcome. I guess you've come for a cure for yah frien'?" he asked, pointing a thing, bony hand towards Lee.

"Yes," Lee replied hesitantly. "What do you know about that?"

The old man shrugged. "I know how i' is for the moo' to overta'e yah and ma'e yah lose control. Abou' a moon or so ago, I go' ou' and raced through the fores'. A young man I come 'cross, I bite, despite the fight he put up; made me lose another tooth. Sincere apologies. When you have no family keeping you bound to your mind in the moonlight, you find yourself bound to other things." he swept his hands wide, indicating the whole garden.

"What? You're a werewolf, too? You flipping bit me?!" Lee snapped, temper rising. Ford held out his hand, stopping him.

"Yes yes, and again, I apologize. My hands and face are still burnt from the bars," he indicated the rusty gate, "made of silver, they are. Humans in, humans out. Me in, never out. I guard and tend this place, but never can I leave."

Fidds walked tentatively up to the bars. "Couldn't you just make a little of the cure yourself?" he asked.

The old man shook his head. "Too many a years I've been cursed, outliving all of my family, for many, many years since today. To take it now would leave me a shorter life than I have long outlived; I'd die, turn to dust, cease to exist; however you wish to put it."

The other three remained silent, unsure what to say. The man sighed and shook his head, reaching over and plucking a plant from somewhere behind him, tossing it over the fence.  
"Here. If you've foun' this place, then you prob'ly know the cure, as well. This is all you nee'; and again, I sincerely apologize for bein' the star' of this problem; let's hope I can be the en' of i', too."

With that, he turned and walked away.

The plant was small, with narrow, barb shaped leaves, which were dark green. The flowers were decent sized, both dark purple and light purple. Fidds picked it up and carefully tucked it away into his pack.

* * *

Years from this, the other two would tease Lee about this, and if anyone else asked, it was about a Halloween prank he'd pulled one year, that ultimately got him a baseball bat to the gut.

Though every night, wolves would howl deep in the woods.

And every full moon, some farm or another, sometimes near and sometimes far from Gravity Falls, would lose an animal or two.

And some would swear they saw some wolves; some dark and some light brown.

And while the three were sometimes called up to try and help with this, they could never catch the culprits.

And every night, they'd have a good, fun time together, laughing beneath the moon.

* * *

 **Did Ford convince Lee to bite him before using the cure, and Fidds, too? Or is there simply wolves running amok out there? We shall never know. Please review!**


	15. A Tale of Two Twins (Pt 1)

**Just for clarification:**

 **Stanley = Grunkle  
** **Stanford = Author**

* * *

 **Drabble 15:** A Tale of Two Twins (Pt. 1)

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _The twins wake up to a scream in the middle of the night._  
 _Upon finding Grunkle Abel crying in his bedroom, they_  
 _don't know what to think, but do their best to comfort him._

 _Internally, it only further drives the knife stuck_ _in his  
heart deeper. Externally, he tells the boys that he loves them_  
 _and appreciates their efforts greatly, besides promising  
to tell them what it was about tomorrow . . ._

 _And when they discover a certain device under the_  
 _Mystery Shack, they learn exactly why he had been crying that night._

 **Universe** :  
 _Swapped Roles_  
 _(Basically, it's the same but_  
 _with different people in different_  
 _places than they would be)_

 **A`N** :  
 _I just got to thinking on how people in the "Ageswap Au"_  
 _replace little Stans with Dipper and Mabel and vice-versa  
and so on with the rest of the cast. __Well, if it still applies after  
"A Tale of Two Stans", that means that Mabel would've been the one_  
 _thrown out, as painful as that is and everyone would try to play it_  
 _differently. So here's the blatant truth, people! Enjoy! ;-P_

A scream sounded through the quiet house. Lee and Ford jolted upright from their beds. They immediately looked to the other twin. Frowned when they realized the other was alright. Brown eyes widened in unison and they jumped from their beds. A pause with Ford as he groped for and put on his glasses. A second pause as both stopped in the hallway, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness out there, as opposed to the left-on, dusky lantern light in their room.

Only one other person was in the house this late at night.

Grunkle Abel.

The twins scampered down the hall, quickly opening the door to their Grunkles room. He was sitting up and hunched over on the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed. Neither Ford nor Lee had ever seen their Grunkle anything like this. Sparing one more glance at eachother, they hurried over and clambered up on the bed, getting on either side of their Grunkle.

While Lee merely cuddled into the older mans side, Ford rubbed his back and told him it was alright. After a few minutes, their efforts were rewarded as he calmed down. He wiped the tears away and pulled the other two into a hug.

He smiled down at them, murmuring quiet thanks before nudging them off the bed and towards the door. They both left, stealing glances back and shutting the door behind them. They knew him well enough by now to know that that was as much of a response they were going to get. After an unspecified event years and years ago, Abel Pines had become something akin to a mute, only speaking when he really had too.

Or when he was scamming tourists, and then his voice was loud, clear, and rather booming and deep. All part of the act. Getting him to talk could be rare, but his lack of words couldn't hide how much he cared for those around him, even if he could be a little rough around the edges. His actions often spoke louder than words, besides gestures, grunts, "hmph"s, and other assorted non-word sounds were enough to convey and hold short conversations.

At least, with the twins. And Fidds. And maybe the teen who manned the register, Dan, though that was debatable.

* * *

Ford couldn't believe it. Staring out at the device with his twin and their handyman friend Fiddleford, he just couldn't believe it. After all this time, their Grunkle Abel had been . . .creating some sort of doomsday device! He'd also lied about the journals! He had the other two, the first with a single Pine Tree and the second with two, golden things that lay on the covers. All the while he possessed the third with his twin, and Abel had never said a word of the others!

Fidds was rambling on about how long it must've taken to build this, mostly under his breath, while Lee was just staring, wide eyed.

" **T-minus, one minute and thirty seconds**." a computer-voice said, spurring the three into action. Quickly, they went to the three keys on the control-panel thing in the room with the deadly device, turning them in their slots. The lever, nearer the portal than Ford liked, made a popping sound, a cover snapping off on the top and a large red button revealed.

They walked over. Ford glared at it, anger over the lies welling up. Just last night, he thought that nothing was wrong except his Grunkles tears, but now . . . .

He held a hand out over the button. "This all ends . . . now!" he shouted. Before he could swat it, someone shouted behind them.

" _Don't press that button_!" it wasn't quite as deep as their Grunkles voice, but there he was, huffing and panting, a hand clutching at the doorframe. He walked forward cautiously. "Ford, please, don't press that button, you gotta trust me."

"Why should we trust you? After you lied to us? I don't even know who you are!" Ford shouted, taking a step towards him, gesturing wildly.

Grunkle Abel all but flinched back, taking the blow from the words harder than his glasses-wearing great-nephew would've thought. It made him pause a moment. They simply stared at eachother; and then something made a beeping noise.

Grunkle Abel looked at his watch, eyes widening in panic. "O-oh no!" he choked out, voice cracking and going from semi-deep to a higher pitch. "Brace yourselves!" he urged, waving his hands in front of him.

In that moment, the gravity seemed to turn off, sending them all floating in various directions. Fidds practically shrieked, flailing and slamming into the wall to the left of the portal, close to the ceiling. Grunkle Abel yelped, bracing himself as he slammed into the back wall chest-first. He wheezed and placed an arm over his chest, taking a moment to reorient himself. Ford managed to latch onto a steady support beam, glasses luckily still on his face, more towards the right of the portal.

"Ford!"

Ford turned, spotting his brother floating near the lever, foot caught on some cord or rope. "Lee! Shut it off!" he shouted to him.

Lee gave him a terrified look before bending over and grabbing the rope, pulling himself along with low grunts.

"No!" Grunkle Abel launched himself off the far wall, practically swimming in midair towards his great-nephew. Only to grunt and be spun end-over-end when Fidds rammed into his side, clutching his arm and yanking at the short hair, clinging despite the shoving he was receiving. "Get off, Fiddles, what're you doing!" his voice rose in pitch, shoving at the thirteen-year-old, though there wasn't much force behind it, the attempts halfhearted even if his tone was desperate.

"Sorry Mr. Pines, if that is your real name! But I have a new mission now! Protecting those twins!" he shouted in reply.

Ford quickly lunged out, tackling and stopping the forward motion of the other two, hovering in place not ten feet from his brother, who now clung to the lever. Lee was staring at this whole scene wide-eyed, not sure what to do. Despite the obvious solution of swatting the button and shutting the machine down, he felt . . . unable too.

"Lee, hit the button!" Ford cried out, clinging to his Grunkles coat as the older man tried to shove or yank him off.

"No, no, don't! Lee, you gotta listen to me! OW!?" Ford had dug his fingers into his side and chest, preoccupying him as he tried to get him to let go.

All three froze as soft sobbing met their ears. They looked over as one, grips relaxing slightly, but not letting go. Watching as tears floated upwards instead of rolling down Lee's cheeks.

"Gr-grunkle Abel, I don't even know if . . .if your my Grunkle!" he cried, hugging the lever like he wished he could be hugging a person, preferably his brother. Abel flinched hard at these words, a guilty expression flitting through his eyes.

"I wanna believe you, but . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to state the obvious.

Abel held out his hands beseechingly. "Then listen. Remember last night how I promised to tell you what my nightmare was about today? How it was about something that scared me and would soon come up before summer ended?" he asked.

"T-minus thirty seconds." the electronic voice spoke again. Just after, the portal flashed, sending the other three flying into the far wall.

It knocked Lee off balance, but he clutched the lever with one hand, other raised to hit the button.

"Wait, please!" Abel cried, some small tears falling from his eyes and floating towards upwards. Sobs began to shake his shoulders.

Lee stopped, watching. Fidds and Ford, on either side of Abel, but out of reach, stared.

Finally wiping at his eyes, he gestured a little with on hand, other stuck underneath a pipe or something he'd half-crushed with the impact against the wall. "I wanted to tell you that no matter what happens, no matter how bad everything looks or confusing it is, that I'll always be your family. Nothing can ever change that or stop me from caring about the both of you."

"What if he's lying? This thing could destroy the universe, Lee, listen to your head!" Ford insisted, now in a crouching position on the wall, staring at his twin desperately.

"Lee, please! Everything I've worked for, everything I _care about_ , it's all been for _this family_!" Abel insisted, rubbing at his eyes again as more tears floated upwards.

"Don't listen to him! Shut it down, now!" Ford insisted, beginning to panic more, letting it show.

"Look into my eyes, Lee!" Abel insisted, continuing when the brunette turned his head from the portal to look at him. "Do you really think I'm a bad guy?"

Lee looked down at the button, hand hovering over it. He looked up a moment, taking a deep breath before closing his eyes. "Grunkle Abel," he said aloud, raising his voice so everyone could hear him.

" **Ten, nine, eight,** " the electronic voice counted down.

Raising his hands above his head, he let go of the lever, floating upwards away from it, framed by the glowing portal behind him to the other three. "I trust you."

"Lee, are you crazy?!" Ford demanded, hurt inside, but more worried for his twin than anything. "We're all gonna-!?"

" **-two, one, zero.** " the voice said.

The portal activated; one by one, they all screamed. On the surface, in the town, everything began to rise up, going crazy as people freaked out. Things floated about underneath the Shack, everyone temporarily unconscious.

A picture frame with the two young Pines twins cracked across the glass before shattering. Then, the gravity returned to normal, everything crashing back down. Everyone grunted as they landed, groaning as they sat up.

Grunkle Abel flexed his right wrist only once with a low whimper. When the gravity had returned, he'd twisted and strained it terribly because of the pipe. It ached, but he shoved the pain aside.

The portal flickered, close to going out. Someone appeared on the other side, stepping through. Their hood, scarf, and goggles made it impossible to see their face, and the light cast from the portal, flickering slowly out, left him swathed in shadows besides. He stopped at the first journal, reaching down, fingers ghosting over the golden metal of the lone Pine Tree, the " **1** " written in ink in the middle.

Picking it up, he straightened and tucked it inside his vest, underneath the coat.

Ford looked up, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Wh-what? Who _is_ that?" he asked.

Grunkle Abel slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, biting his lip to keep from crying out as his wrist protested being used. "The Author of the journals . . ." he breathed out, managing to keep the pain hidden.

The other man pulled of the goggles and threw back the hood, his intense stare settled firmly on Abel. He looked exactly like the other in face, in the brown eyes that stared out, relief, anger, and disbelief clear, and some mystery emotion drifting through, focused solely on the other man. The only real discernible thing between them was the stubble coating the other's jaw.

Otherwise, they were exact twins.

" . . . my brother . . ." Abel finished, eyes welling with tears that he refused to let fall.

* * *

Ford and Lee stood shoulder to shoulder, gaping in shock. Fidds stood just behind them, mirroring their reactions, though he'd gone pale; it was entirely possible that he might faint.

"I . . . I can't believe it. . . this whole time . . .why!?" Ford suddenly turned from awed shock to anger, rounding on Grunkle Abel. "Why didn't you ever tell us?! We could've helped!" he wiped at his eyes furiously, refusing to felt his tears fall. "You, you, you . . . ." he broke off, glaring down at his shoes.

Fidds couldn't help but half-hide behind Lee. This new Mr. Pines looked kinda scary. Or at least, he was intimidating.

Abel pulled himself to his feet, biting his lip to hold back small sounds of pain. The other slowly stepped forward, brow furrowed in confusion. He reached out cautiously, then drew back, suddenly suspicious.

"I do I know you're not the shape-shifter? You look exactly like me!" he demanded, voice deep and actually very close to the Abels', who had a slightly higher pitch.

Abel flinched back, cringing, tears starting to fall as he grasped his wrist, muttering under his breath from the pain.

"He's not; we fought the shapeshifter and turned him into a big Popsicle again in your top-secret bunker we found using your third journal." Lee suddenly piped up.

The Author jolted and spun on his heel, taking in the three children, blinking in surprise, as if only just noticing them. He smiled a little, pulling out the first one. "You've read my journals?" he asked.

"W-we haven't just _read_ them, we've _lived_ them!" Ford exclaimed, starting to get excited. "I have so many questions-"

He was interrupted by a quiet squeal. All turned to see Grunkle Abel clutching his wrist, eyes screwed tight in pain, leaning heavily against the back wall. "Yep, ow . . . not good . . ." he grumbled under his breath, though he sounded . . . less like himself. More . . .more something. None of the younger boys could quite lay their finger on it.

The Author was by his side in a moment, gently pulling that arm out of his tight grasp and pushing the sleeve up, gently feeling it. "What happened, Mabel?" he asked quietly, concern and worry clear.

"Mabel?" Ford asked in confusion.

"But, your . . . your Grunkle Abel." Lee followed up, both staring up with identical looks of confusion.

The Author gasped, a hand going to cover his mouth in shock as the other jerked back, flinching when reached for. Sobs began to shake his(her?) shoulders, tears falling.

"You took my name?" the Author asked softly in shock and concern.

"Y-your not our . . . our Grunkle?" Lee squeaked in shock, while Ford laid a protective arm around his shoulders. Fidds hovered just behind the two, anxiously watching to see what would happen next, keeping his mouth shut for once.

"N-no . . ." Mabel replied softly, hugging herself one-handedly, the other pressed lightly into her stomach. The voice was feminine, no longer deep, booming, or even spoken so softly it seemed shy or hesitant by nature. "I-I . . . I'm sorry . . . " she whispered, closing her eyes, the one arm tightening it's grip on her chest. "I n-never meant to h-hurt anyone . . ."

"It's okay Mabel, sh, it's okay," Abel, their real Grunkle, gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her towards a clearer, smoother pile of debris, sitting her down next to him. She turned to cry into his chest, while he patiently reassured her and rubbed her back. He lightly beckoned the other three children over, and they sat more-or-less at their feet.

Ford couldn't quite wrap his head around it. The whole summer so far . . .Grunkle Abel, er, Great Aunt Mabel, Grauntie Mabel? Either way, she looked and sounded every part like a man, boy, _male_ ; how? Some sort of spell? No, maybe not, but then . . . how?

And, more pressingly, why?

* * *

 **I'm gonna end it here. First off, sorry for being away for awhile. I got hit by writers block and was struck down a few times by lack of sleep. Not very fun, let me tell you.**

 **But, I am back, and I fully intend to try and pick up the pace. Enjoy and please review!**


	16. Mansion Mannerisms

**Request from "** Guest(guest) **":**

 **"** Can you do one ware Dipper,  
Mabel,Pasifica and Bill are ghosts inhabiting the now old abandoned north west household?  
like a little ghost family :3 **"**

 **If you don't mind me adding in some Little Monsters!Stan twins and Fidds, plus some others as well; then yes, I can. It can be sorta like the episode "** The Inconveniencing **"! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 16:** Mansion Mannerisms

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _In the course of meeting another set of monster-fied twins(in their own words)  
and meeting up with the werewolf Ash, Fidds, Lee, and Ford are checking out a supposedly  
haunted house._

 _But as they continue to horse around and investigate  
the place, they're beginning to suspect that the haunts who reside __there are  
none-to-friendly . . . .but if that _IS _so, then why is one offering_ _them cookies  
and another throwing glitter and confetti all over the place whilst the other two glare at them?_

 **Universe** :  
 _Young!Monster Falls_  
 _(The Stan twins basically born/turned into_  
 _monsters when little and it's normal and junk.  
Like most people in the Falls are monsters  
and the world knows and everyone's basically cool with it.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _I wasn't quite sure exactly where to take the Little Monsters!Au next, but this request has given me the perfect opportunity._

Later that day, late evening, Fidds, Lee, and Ford left the pawn shop, equipped with backpacks and lanterns. As they passed Greasy's Diner, a familiar black-furred shape emerged.

It was Ash. Her hair hanging loose about her shoulders, wearing jeans, a black biker jacket, and with a backpack slung over one shoulder. All this Fidds caught in a glance, and then her silver eyes caught his blue and she smiled, walking over with loose, easy steps.

"Hey! Where are you three headed so late at night?" she asked.

"We're meeting up with another set of weird twins to investigate a haunted house." Lee immediately answered, earning a punch on the shoulder from his brother, that he immediately returned.

There was a moments silence as she apparently contemplated this. She smiled. "Sweet, mind if I join?"

* * *

Marci paced back and forth at the edge of the road. Stancio stood just off of it, behind the guardrail. "Get down here! Before you get ran over!" the snowy Cervitaur scolded, ears laid back anxiously.

Marci's only reply was to scoff. She'd be able to hear any cars coming long before she saw them, and getting out of the way would be a cinch regardless. Besides the fact that this was the designated meeting point and _one of them_ had to be in sight for the others to find them.

She suddenly stiffened, twisting her head towards town. The lights steps and quiet clicks of some sort of canine Were, the near-silent padding of some feline Were, a human, and some heavier creature that sounded more like stone tapping on stone.

She didn't move, but when she spotted them coming around the bend, lantern light filling the air, she grinned. "Hey! Ash, Fidds, Pines! Over here!" she called out quietly.

Only Lee seemed to hear her, an ear flicking her way before he started over with a grin, spotting her easily in the shadows. Ash was next, nostrils flaring as she tried to scent them over the stench of car fumes inlaid heavily on the road. She smiled when she spotted the younger Were, giving a bit of a wave, tail wagging. Ford squinted, as well as Fidds.

They were the only two with lanterns, seeing as the others in the group scarcely needed any light to see at all, compared to humans. It was quickly clear from the way the two Were's joked about hunts and tails and teeth and other things that this was the older Were Marci had mentioned earlier that day.

And, with Marci leading and her brother just behind her, they all started the short hike up the mountain to the mansion.

* * *

Getting in hadn't been terribly difficult. Lee had gone first, using his claws on feet and hands to tear out rock in the high stone wall as he went, to create better handholds for the others. Marci had more-or-less just flown over, perching on the top, followed quickly by Ford. Fidds had followed quickly, handing his lantern to Stancio. Ash followed right after him.

Some rope and a bit of a lengthy process of making a comfortable harness for Stancio, to help haul him over. Once everyone was on the other side, they all took a moment to stare up at the giant mansion. It looked largely intact, for the most part, only little bits of wear and tear from weather.

Together, with Marci and Ford leading the way and the others trailing after, they ventured inside. after climbing through a low window, Lee wandered off, walking in one direction, soon out of sight in the darkness of the large room.

"O-kay, this place just became ten times creepier." Ash muttered under her breath, quiet snuffling sounds following after as she scented the air. Marci was doing the same. Neither Ford nor Stancio had gained the gift of advanced smell. Their siblings, but not them. Only improved hearing, maybe better nightsight. Fidds was much weaker by that account, being fully human. That's just how it was.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light up ahead; an eerie, supernatural blue. Stancio flinched and sidled up closer to Fidds, while Marci darted forward. "Come on, let's check it out!" she exclaimed. Ash and Ford shared wary glances.

However, just as the two youngsters rounded the corner, they shrieked and turned tail, only for some invisible force to grab them before dragging them off.

"Marci!?" Stancio shrieked, sprinting forward. He flinched away, skidding to a halt before turning tail. He shouted, reaching for Ash and and Fiddleford, before another bright flash of blue light appeared. And then he was simply gone, without a trace.

Fidds stared, petrified with fear and shock. Ash flattened her ears and bared her teeth in a snarl, dropping to all fours. "What the heck is going on? Show yourself!" she shouted, her voice echoing and reechoing in the dark space.

Something suddenly tackled Fidds, knocking him over and on top of Ash, who yelped. All Fidds could get out was a startled squeak. On his chest was an excited, grinning Lee.

"You'll never believe what I just found!" he exclaimed, grabbing the stunned human's hand and dragging him towards a far-off door. Ash took a lantern and followed warily, fur sticking straight up along the back of her neck.

"I don't like this," she muttered, scenting the air. "Something's not right."

Fidds just followed along numbly. He couldn't make any sense of it. The only good thing about his current stunned state was it kept him from bolting in terror.

Lee lead them into a room that had a pool. They were close the shallow end, but the whole thing was empty. Ash looked around, then up. "What the . .?" she muttered. Much of the room appeared to be burnt, the cieling having caved away to reveal the sky, stars and the crescent moon.

A flash of blue light appeared in the deeper part of the pool. There were two clangs, as metal hit the concrete, followed by the angry roar of a lion and scared bleating of a fawn.

"Marci, Stancio!" Ash muttered, eyes wide.

Fidds shook himself and strained to see. "Where's Ford?" he asked.

Lee remained silent, completely still. Not in the way that he had turned fully to stone. No, he was simply staring out across the pool. Fidds crouched to his eye level, gently shaking his shoulder. "Lee?" he asked quietly.

Lee turned his head slowly, opening his eyes suddenly. They weren't glowing gold, like they usually were. They were solid blue, an ethereal glow that was so different and cold than the warmth they normally held.

Fidds flinched back, agape. Sharp teeth spreading in a wide, predatory grin, Lee started to laugh. But it was not his voice, or his laugh. This laughter was booming, deep, and rather terrifying.

Ash grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him to his feet, lunging back and pulling the human with her. In that instant, Lee had pounced. Where Fidds had been, now the small gargoyle was digging claws into the concrete of the pool-deck, easily digging trough it like a hot knife through butter, messily stuffing pieces in his mouth and chewing quickly, in a frenzy.

"Ash! Ash, help!" Marci cried, rattling the bars on her cage.

"Help us! The pool, it's filling!" Stancio joined, accompanied by a sharp cry of surprise.

"Ford!" the Evergreen twins cried at once.

"W-we've got to help!" Fiddleford exclaimed, wrenching himself out of the Were's grasp, racing for the pool. Lee was suddenly in front of him, hovering in place, the same ethereal glow surrounding him. He wasn't even using his wings. Teeth bared in a malicious grin and hands spread out to better show off his claws . . . he looked almost nothing like the rambunctious little boy Fidds had met.

Ash put a tight grip on one arm and hauled him back again, digging in her claws until he yelped. "Stop, you idiot!" she snarls. "There's ghosts! It's _ghosts_ doing this! We need to use our heads and not be brash."

He pulls free again, glancing back at her in the lantern light. "Perhaps, but we have to do _something_!" he throws a hand towards the pool. "They're going to drown down there unless we hurry!"

That said, he snatched one of the lanterns off the ground and sprinted down into the pool. The cages were about four feet across and a little taller than he was. The water was already to his knees and climbing higher.

Stancio was pacing, hands feeling over every inch he could reach of his cage, while Marci was struggling to squeeze through the bars at the top. "Fidds!" they exclaimed at once, going as far as they could to meet him.

"Just calm down, I-I'll figure a way to get you out of here. Have either of you seen Ford?" he asks, setting the lantern on top of one of the cages, starting to circle both and look over them, trying to find a door.

"Over there!" Stancio strained, pointing towards the deeper end of the pool. "Hurry!"

Fidds stared at him a moment, then quickly slogged over. What he found was Ford, ropes binding his wings and arms behind his back, ankles tied tightly together and gagged. He was conscious, thankfully, and had managed to sit up to lean against the wall. He had his head tilted back and almost all of him was submerged under the water except just a bit of his nose.

Scooping him up and hurrying back towards the cages, Fidds yanked the gag off, cradling the twelve-year-old as he sputtered and heaved for air. Stretching, he gently placed him on top of Marci's cage, then started looking more at Stancio's.

The water rose ever-higher as he searched. Searched, and found nothing. He was growing anxious; what was he to do, if he couldn't find a way? Watch them drown? He didn't want to think of it.

Then, next thing Fidds knows, he's drowning. It happened to quickly to anticipate. Almost. Marci had been busying herself with trying to tear the ropes off of Ford. It was Stancio who had first cried out and pointed behind the human. That's when something rammed into him, knocking his head against the bars of the cage hard, before slipping, dazed, under the surface of the water, the thing on top of him.

The water level, now at about the edge of his ribs and climbing higher, suddenly seemed a lot more scary that he'd previously deemed. When the weight on top of him suddenly disappeared and something hauled him up by the shoulder, he was too disoriented and coughing up to much water to initially notice quite a few things.

First thing he noticed was Ash standing tensely at his side, soaked from head to toe. Next was Lee, clinging desperately to his trousers, looking scared and miserable in the deep water. And third . . . the ghosts.

Four of them, in fact, who were not twenty feet away and arguing. One was a Gorgon; girl from the waist up, snake from the waist down, with blonde snakes for hair that matched her tail, visible fangs, and eyes hidden by black shades. Then there was a Cervitaur, brown haired, brown eyed, wearing a white and blue hat with a pine tree on it.

Standing just on the other side was a human, no older then ten and no younger than seven, with corn-yellow hair that covered one blue eye and rather sharply dressed, in black slacks, white dress shirt, yellow vest with a gold brickwork pattern that covered his ribs, a black bow tie, tiny top hat, and a cane in hand. Standing, or, more like, floating, was a mermaid. Pink tail, long brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that was very similar to the Cervitaurs.

Besides the human, all of them looked to be around twelve. And, from what Fiddleford could pick up of their argument, the Gorgon and Cervitaur were unhappy with the intrusion, while the mermaid and human were excited by it. Which seemed to have ended in the former pair attempting to "take care of them" and the latter merely going for a bit of a scare, like a sort of prank.

And were now in a stand off that would last who-knows-how?

* * *

 **Meh, sorry if it turned out all weird. I wasn't sure how to end it, so far now, this is what you guys get. I might add more later, if I can get through my lack on inspiration for Little Monsters!Stan Twins stuff.**


	17. Dealing with Different Dimensions, Pt 2

**I have no excuse. Remember, requests are still open, people! Please leave requests!**

* * *

 **Drabble 17:** Dealing with Different Dimensions, Pt. 2

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _When dimensions spring hay-wire and cross with one another because of the resulting blast of energy from the portal, a very scared and vaguely-familiar blonde-haired little boy is carried out of the portal with . . .someone. Someone familiar. Who are they? What happened? And why are they so scared of Dipper?_

 **Universe** :  
 _Bill Sife-R., crossed with Canon_  
 _(More of a what-is sitch more than anything_  
 _I'm honestly falling in love with little Human!Bill's_  
 _Design. Can't get enough of him!)_

 **A`N** :  
 _Okay, I'm continuing this form the 6th drabble on here,  
and while I'm not entirely sure how this'll end, I've already  
worked out a basic timeline for the two newcomers for what  
happened in their own dimension. Which is, admittedly,  
similar to where it's merely Bill and dips roles reversed,  
but, well . . . .you'll see what I mean soon enough._

Ford remained silent, half-stunned. When he himself had gone through the portal, he had ended up fighting in a place that was basically like future-Gravity Falls, struggling to survive against the enemy and suppressing government with his small band of rebels and comrades. What these two described sounded much worse, especially if they really had faced of against a demon time and again.

And so young . . . .he was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of footsteps. And who steps into the kitchen but Stanley, sparing his twin a glance before shuffling towards the coffee machine, going about fixing a cup and completely missing the two . . . "visitors".

"Morning, 'Ford." he grunts.

Bill and Mabel stare, wide-eyed. Then Mabel crumples in on herself and starts to sob, hugging herself as warm tears start to fall down her cheeks. Bill simply stares, mouth slightly agape, though tears are slowly tracking down his cheeks, as well.

Lee startles and turns, glancing between the teen and young woman. "Uh . . ." he glances at Ford, who seems surprised and uncertain as to what he should do. He spots the first-aid kit and his eyes widen. Coffee abandoned, he steps up to the strangers sitting at the table.

"Ford, is this something I should know about?" he asks.

The woman suddenly flings herself on Lee, who initially flails and stumbles, hands held out awkwardly at his side. "I don't even know how to respond to this . . ." he mumbles, which makes the girl laugh a little, even though it's bogged down heavily by her heartbroken tears, and not nearly as cheerful as it could've been.

Bill has closed his eyes, face screwed up in pain as he shifted in his seat. His head was bowed slightly, blocking both eyes from view with his bangs, but tears were still pouring freely down his cheeks.

Lee looks to Ford, trying to figure out what was going on. He studied the young woman's face and profile. As far as he can tell, she's in her early twenties, and could possibly have mistaken him for someone else. He looks a little closer at her face, frowning. She's familiar; very much so. More than just someone who looks like someone you know, she . . . she looks like someone he _should_ know.

"Um . . .Ford?" he asks his twin, who's simply looking on. "Do you know who this is?" he asks, making a bit of a vague gesture towards the sobbing woman latched onto his torso.

"Um . . .that would be Mabel. From another dimension." Ford replies, avoiding his eyes in favor of staring down at his hands.

Lee stares a long moment. "Are you kidding me?! Ford!" he shouts, startling the girl into backing away. He glares at his twin. "We agreed to shut it down! Forever!" he continues, hands balled into fists.

"We turned it on. From our side." a quiet voice speaks up.

All eyes turn to Bill, who's eyes are closed, but head tilted back slightly. "We were told to open it up, and go through, to escape. We didn't know we'd turn up here. If you want, we'll leave as soon as possible."

Lee glanced to his brother, who only shrugged slightly. "They were both injured; I couldn't just throw them out." Ford replied to the silent question.

Mabel has, by now, dried her tears, though Bill is still crying. Or, at least, tears are still streaming steadily down his cheeks, but he makes no other noise.

"Kid, why are you crying? If you really want, you and your, er, friend can stick around." Lee offered.

Bill shrugged. "Your wing." he pointed out a trembling hand towards Stanley's right shoulder. "It's hurt. Stuck out funny. Can't . . ." here Bill let's out a strangled sob, voice growing unsteady. "Can't fly right. Or alone . . . burned. The feathers, they're . . . " he lets out a low moan, curling forward and hiding his face with his arms. Mabel crouches beside him worriedly, gently wrapping arms around him.

"Wings?" Ford raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he insists.

Bill moaned again, shaking. He mumbled something incoherent. "Burned. . .all his fault . . . can't fly . . . Soldier of the Fallen . . . _no_ . . ." he manages to speak up, but he's hugging his sides tightly, clearly distressed.

Ford now looks very guilty, glancing at his brother and then away. Lee merely raises a brow. "Look, kid, I'm not dead; at least, I'm not dead yet. And as for the burn, it was an accident. No one intended for it to happen."

 _'How does he even know it's a burn?'_ he can't help but think. _'Dipper keeps pestering me about my '_ tattoo _', and some stranger figures it out? What kind of logic is that?'_

No response, or even acknowledgement that he'd heard. Bill digs his fingers into his arms, leaving marks. When Mabel makes no move to stop him, Lee crouches in front of him and gently eases his hands off, gripping them in his own. The kid looks up slowly, eye wide, pupil dilated. His bangs are starting to stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he mumbles something else incoherent before trying to yank away, though it's weak.

"Kid?" Lee prods quietly, growing concerned.

Bill jerks, eye darting to take in his presence, though he doesn't really respond. His hands ball into fists. "Freaking died. . . .couldn't _DO_ anything . . . can't . . .no it . . . no. . . **_NO_!?** " Bill jerked away with a shriek, trembling hard and panting, pupil retracting sharply. He curled in on himself, shivering. Only now does Mabel move to comfort him, gently scooping him up and sitting in his chair, cradling him.

"What the heck was that about?" Ford demanded, frowning.

Mabel looks down at Bill with a frown. "His visions . . ." she wavers, then continues, stronger. "Sometimes he'll see things in the past or future. He's never sure exactly of the outcome, what it will be or what happened. He'll often see into anothers, but not on purpose. Never on purpose." she ducks her head, gently laying her chin on his head.

He curls tighter into her embrace, panting and trembling still. He mumbles, face pale, and tosses his head fitfully. His bangs fall away, revealing both eyes. His right eye, while baby blue, was the only one that still possessed sight. His left eye was pale and cloudy-white over the iris and pupil, and a large burn mark was branded over it, becoming a pale powder blue, like Grunkle Stans' "tattoo".

It was in the shape of a triangle, with a faint outline of an eye, a top-hat, a bow tie, legs and arms. Ford sucks in a breath at the sight, while Lee just narrows his eyes, thinking.

"H-how did he get that?" Ford asked finally.

Bill raised his head to look tiredly at Ford. "S'fire," he slurs, eyes wandering aimlessly. "Big one . . .got it then. Was on'y three."

Mabel winces at this admission, reaching a hand to the left side of her collarbone.

"It 'llows me to see what other' can't see . . . both curse and gift . . . stupid demon . . ." here Bill growled. "Marks ya' witha brand t'show you're important, make ya' wear it always. Others he let's prance around with 'em like a medal; can take it off and pretend not to be involved. I . . ." here Bill paused, eyeing the Stan Twins in something akin to a serious and delirious manner.

"I can see the Fallen, the Wingless, those with wings but clipped feathers. Dead 'n 'live fightin' on both sides . . . .those who get through with their wings' whole fly away, but don't oft' deserve it. Those who get their wings hurt, they have to keep fighting, can't leave e'en if they wanted too, but they deserve tuh leave the most, ev'ry time. . . ." Bill shakes his head, exhaustion suddenly apparent on his features.

"You mean . . . you can see angels?" Ford asked, half awed and half stunned.

Bill shakes his head. "Angels, spirits, all the same. Only those bonded close and strong 'sides can leave, if one's hurt. Rarely happens . . . _seldom_ happens. Seen it precious few times. . . ." his head drops back, eyes slipping closed as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

The Stan twins stared a few long moments, shocked. Mabel only hugged the younger close, her own eyes drooping shut.

"Does . . ." here Lee swallowed hard. "I mean, well, can . . . can anyone else see these things?" he manages.

Mabel shakes her head slowly. "It's only him." she whispers softly. "Only him on our side, in our ranks. He doesn't speak of who he sees often, though. From what he's told me . . ." she trails off, glancing to the side.

She takes a deep breath, then continues. " . . .sometimes he'll watch those who were wounded in the last battle. He told me once that he can see those who pass away rise up from their own bodies, trying out their wings. How most stay, even if their wings are fine, how he'll talk to them in private afterwards. He . . . .doesn't like to talk about it, nor has he told the others, but sometimes he'll basically be commanding a second army . . .his own 'Fallen Warriors', as he put it once."

She suddenly stiffens, looking at the doorway. Lee and Ford turned, only to see Mabel standing in the doorway. Or, younger Mabel . . . their Mabel? Either way, the twelve-year-old stands stock-still, just outside the ktichen, still in her pajama's and staring at what is clearly an elder version of herself.

Squinting, she blearily says, "Mom? What are you doing here?" she asks, rubbing at her eyes.

Older-Mabel seems to realize what is happening and glances towards Lee, silently asking for help.

Seeming to realize this, he clears his throat to get the attention off the pair sitting at the table. "Mabel, sweetie, these are just some, er, campers who got lost and turned up earlier. They're both hurt and need some rest, so you can talk to them later, alright?" he asks.

Mabel nods, paying the two no mind and not further examining their appearances as she goes about finding food for breakfast. Ford and Lee meet eyes before the former leads the visitors up the stairs and the latter helps Mabel make a proper breakfast.

Ford shows them to Lee's room; he hopes he won't mind. "You can sleep here. Um, do you need, anything?" he asks, feeling suddenly awkward as he rubs the back of his neck.

Older Mabel shakes her head "no", taking off both her shoes and Bills, as well as their cloaks, before tucking the younger in. "Just call me Kiara," she spoke up suddenly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her sweater was a bright pink with a colorful shooting star going across it. With a jolt, Ford realized he'd seen Mabel, the one in this dimension, wear a similar, though smaller one, during his time here.

"I know it'll be confusing with two Mabel's about, so just call me Kiara. And call Bill 'Tyrone' . . . pl-please." there was a long pause and a bit of a wince on the last word.

Ford nodded. "Just give me or my brother a shout should you need anything." he informed the girl, who only nodded, curling up on the bed.

Closing the door softly behind him, Ford made his way down the stairs to inform his brother of the names and sleeping arrangements. He found him still in the kitchen, serving pancakes and bacon to a bright-eyed Mabel and sleepy Dipper.

Managing to pull his brother aside, he quickly explained. Though grumpy over the fact that he'd lost his bed, Lee didn't protest to much and only explained to Dipper about the two guests and telling both twins to be quiet so as not to disturb them.

There was a bit of a moment when Dipper perked up at the name 'Tyrone', seeming both intrigued and disgruntled over it. As soon as Mabel realized that he'd always wanted that name, she started to tease him, ending in both having a "syrup race" to determine who would decide todays activity.

Ford couldn't help but shake his head at how quickly both had made up.

Hopefully, the guests upstairs would be able to tell him a little more when they'd woken up.

* * *

 **Here ya go! I know it's been awhile since I've touched upon this particular Au, but I couldn't help myself! Enjoy and please review!**


	18. Timeskip-Deserted, Au Kickoff

**Request from "** Extreme Light 9 **":**

 **"** I know you made a chapter about this idea, but can you do one about Stanley and Stanford being sucked into the portal and learn to survive in the other dimension? **"**

 **Sounds good to me! Just to let everyone else know, me and** Ex-Li-9 **(sorry, weird on-the-spot nickname) talked about this idea a little more via Pm, and settled on two different ideas that make for some interesting storyline-stuffs. I couldn't choose just one, but this first one is the basics for how they(the Stan twins) get in there.**

 **I know that, technically, there's a drabble about that(both entering the portal), but it's not mine; it's borrowed, and I'm not going to use it. Sorry if you don't like this, since it's short, but it kickstarts two cool timelines, so bare with me, please.**

* * *

 **Drabble 18:** Timeskip/Deserted, Au Kickoff

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Both Stans end up in a new dimension that, not only is in the future,  
but that is unexpected in more ways than one. But without proper supplies  
and Lee getting feverish from infection, Ford needs to watch his back and  
_ _relearn how to trust others._

 _Plus Lee fighting and facing things he never expected  
to see or encounter. Both will have to relearn how to cooperate  
and become a dynamic duo again if they want to return home . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _(Kick-off of two different_  
 _and new Au's ["Timeskip"  
and "Deserted", respectively],  
offered by __another author.  
Enjoy.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _So, this is going to split off into TWO different outcomes, where they end up two  
different dimensions, and therefore have to figure things out in different scenarios,  
thus the vague Summary above. I'm mostly just writing up something  
to A) remind me of this later and B) get them in there in the first place. Please bear with me here. :-)_

Stanley glared at his twin, one eye shut tight from the pain and clutching at the fabric of his right shoulder. "Some brother you turned out to be." he growled, journal in hand.

Stanford scowled at him, a bruise forming where he'd punched him.

"You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family . . . well you can have 'em!" he slammed the journal into his chest. What he didn't expect was for Stanford to latch onto his coat sleeve and drag him down, as well.

Or, _up_ . . ? "Woah, woah, hey! Wh-what's going on?!" Stanley exclaimed, eyes widening in fear and surprise when he saw the floor three feet below him and getting further away. He flailed a little, looking up at his brother in shock.

Ford growled a little, glaring at him. "I tried to tell you! This thing is dangerous!" his grip hadn't lessened. In fact, it was getting tighter, fingers digging painfully into Stanley's wrist, the journal clutched to his chest.

They were approaching the portal fast. Stanley twisted around, wincing, trying to figure out something. "Wh-what do we do?!" he demanded, trying to resist panicking.

"I don't know! Without you, we wouldn't be in this mess!" Ford replied sharply, finally getting his brother to meet his gaze.

Stanley tried to flinch back and out of his grasp, hurt from the glare. "F-ford?" he tried, before looking around him. "Ford, look out!?" he shouted, somehow managing to lunge in midair and latch onto his brother, wrapping strong arms around him as they went through the portal.

Stanford squawked indignantly, trying to wiggle loose. "Stanley, let go of me!" he barked, temper rising.

Stanley shook his head, now buried in his brothers chest. " _No_! I'm not letting you go Ford! _Never again_! Wherever we're going, I _refuse_ to be separated again!"

They both screamed as the portal engulfed them. It sparked and flickered, flashed brightly, and then . . . the two were gone. The portal sparked weakly, then shut down, it's glow going out.

* * *

Stars. Stars everywhere. Ford looked around in shock, mouth agape. It felt almost like . . .floating. Underwater, but they were still able to breathing, and bits of glittering, glowing stars sparkled around them everywhere.

Hesitantly, he reaches out to touch one, but as soon as his hand wraps around it, he lets go. Not only is it simultaneously freezing cold and stove-top hot, but he can't bring himself to put it in his pocket. It's . . . too pretty to really take away and tamper with.

Looking around himself again, Ford realizes the tight grip on his chest, restricting his breathing. He almost panics, then frowns, looking down. Lee is still hugging him tightly, face hidden from the splendor around them, buried in his chest.

"Stanley, let go." he growls, trying to wiggle loose. His brother only tightens his grip, mumbling something into his chest. "What?" Ford demands, glaring.

Lee lifts his head some, but doesn't meet his brothers eyes. There closed tight from pain. "Don't leave me behind, Ford. Please, it . . . it _hurts_ . . ." he pleads.

Ford narrows his eyes, confused. Looking just over his brothers head, though, he can see what he's talking about. The burn on his shoulder is bright red and inflamed, and would definitely become infected if not treated soon.

Just as he opens his mouth to reply, he realizes that there's a bright light behind them. Glancing back, he can see a huge circle of white lightt, with a fainter, blurry circle of color in the center, like a fuzzy photograph.

And they're headed straight for it.

All he can do is lean and hunch himself over his brother, wrapping the arm that's not pinned to his side around him. Wherever their going, Lee is all he has left, he can't leave him behind.

"I'm not leaving you behind, Stanley. . . ." he risks a glance back, the portal right on top of them.

Lee only nods into his chest, clenching his teeth.

Both flinch as they enter the portal; it shuts off with a flash.

In the star-filled, void-like space, a single eye opens . . . and then another, and a third.

* * *

On one "side", Bill triangular form blinks into existence. He blinks twice and his form materializes, gaining color. On the opposite side, the shape of the Pine Tree symbol outlines itself, before popping into existence, the Big Dipper on his forehead, mostly-covered by is trucker hat.

"Ah, Magnus, just the demon I wanted to see." Bill started, before the other cut him off.

"What do you want, Bill?" he snapped, crossing his arms. "I got places to go and people to see."

"Oh, feisty much? I just want to chat, kid." Bill replied, rolling his eye.

Magnus bristled, glowering at him. "Need I remind you, in my dimension, you're just a kid and a symbol on my wheel. I'm well aware that it's the other way around in yours, but just watch who you go calling a kid."

Bill shrugged, summoning and twirling his cane. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask what the plans are for those two," he made a loose gesture towards where they disappeared. "Since in both places, I'm technically in charge; even if it's a slightly different me."

Magnus shrugged. "Not entirely sure; all I know is that it could end two different ways, and in one of them, you've already driven the human residents out of town. As for the other . . . I'm not sure, but it puts them in the future of another dimension. That's all I got so far." the Pine Tree-esque demon shrugged.

"Anything else to add? You _DO_ realize how rare it is that we can actually interact like this, right?" Bill asked, crossing his arms impatiently.

Magnus only shrugged. "I do, but it's nothing to fret over. It's happened plenty of times in the past of these differing dimensions, and I can feel and guess that it'll happen more in the future . . . but stronger." he somehow managed to pull a grin, like a sharks. Or, at least, portray it in his voice. "And then we'll be able to meet even more demons!"

If it was possible, Bill would've either blanched or turned bright red in fury. "I'm fine with the way things are between us now, thank you! I don't need more versions of you to annoy me."

Magnus gave him a gloating look, shrugging, before his entire form flickered and he rang once, like a bell. "Whoops! I got someone summoning me. Later, Triangles!" he called, a smirk clear in his words.

Bill glared at him. "Don't call me that!"

Magnus only snickered, giving a wave before he disappeared.

Bill trembled with fury, then rolled his eye again. He, too, disappeared.

* * *

 **I couldn't help myself! Having Demon-Dips and Bill talking and arguing is fun. Especially since Magnus knows Bill got defeated by the human version of him in his dimension(the** Sock Opera **) and likes to subtly rub it in his face and otherwise annoy him.** **I'd like to imagine that, for the demons to be able to just talk like they did and not tear whole dimensions apart to do so, they need to fine-tune themselves to whatever frequencies that the portal/whatever-it-is is at, leading to that in-between space.**

 **Actually . . . the more I think about it, the more that space the Pines twins were in was created by the demons; constructing a sort of chat room to hang out in. Otherwise, they would've gone through the portal and ended up immediately on the other side.**

 **Either way, enjoy and please review!**


	19. A Tale of Two Twins (Pt 2)

**Sorry it's been awhile! Was figuring out some stuff; in real life and for the stories. But I'm back now; so don't worry! I realize this one is shorter than the others, but I felt like if I tried to add more for the sake of more words, it'd fall apart and lose it's focus.**

 ** _WARNING!?_  
** **There are mentions of drinking and alcohol at the end.  
** **Just letting anyone who dislikes know. That is all.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 19:** A Tale of Two Twins (Pt. 2)

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _The twins wake up to a scream in the middle of the night._  
 _Upon finding Grunkle Abel crying in his bedroom, they_  
 _don't know what to think, but do their best to comfort him._

 _Internally, it only further drives the knife stuck_ _in his  
heart deeper. Externally, he tells the boys that he loves them_  
 _and appreciates their efforts greatly, besides promising  
to tell them what it was about tomorrow . . ._

 _And when they discover a certain device under the_  
 _Mystery Shack, they learn exactly why he had been crying that night._

 **Universe** :  
 _Swapped Roles_  
 _(Basically, it's the same but_  
 _with different people in different_  
 _places than they would be)_

 **A`N** :  
 _I just got to thinking on how people in the "Ageswap Au"_  
 _replace little Stans with Dipper and Mabel and vice-versa  
and so on with the rest of the cast. __Well, if it still applies after  
"A Tale of Two Stans", that means that Mabel would've been the one_  
 _thrown out, as painful as that is and everyone would try to play it_  
 _differently. So here's the blatant truth, people! Enjoy! ;-P_

Once Mabel had calmed down, Lee popped the question that most were thinking. "Grauntie Mabel, what happened?" he made a loose gesture towards the brother and sister and the entire room. "Why was the real Grunkle Abel in that . . . portal place? And why were you pretending to be him?" he asked.

Mabel flinched away and Ford punched his brother on the shoulder. Abel only sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Just call me Dipper, alright?" he asked.

All three boys nodded. "May I ask why, sir?" Fidds asked, readjusting his glasses.

Abel nodded, pushing up the grey bangs hanging over his forehead to reveal a birthmark; the Big Dipper, every line and star there in perfect order.

"Heh heh, neato! That has got to be one of the greatest things I've ever seen!" Lee exclaimed, grinning wide.

Abel, or Dipper, just chuckled, and Mabel couldn't help but smile. "I like this kid; he's weird." he pointed towards Lee with a grin.

"What's the deal with this portal?" Ford pressed, growing a little fidgety.

Eyes widening, Dipper stood and started to pace, a pen in hand, clicking it incessantly. "That reminds me. Mabel," he turned towards her. "Are there any security breaches? Does _anyone else_ know about this portal?" he asked.

"No, no, just us." she gave him a look that said _'Really, bro?'_. "Also maybe the entire U.S. Government." she added.

"The _what_?!" Dipper repeated, running towards the glass that separated the two rooms. On one of the nearer monitors, he could see the agents milling about.

"Okay, it's alright. We just need to stay calm, and think of something; like old times, right Mabel?" he asked, smiling. Mabel glanced at him, then away. She sniffled, holding her wrist. His smile dropped hard. He walked over, reaching out to her.

"Mabel, please, I just want to-" Dipper tried, only to have his hand smacked away as she stood swiftly.

"If you wanted to help, you would've _stopped_ him! You would've _helped_ me!" she shouted, then sniffed quietly, tears streaming down her face, anger and distress muddled together in her brown orbs. "Why did you leave me behind? Why did you _**give up**_ on me forty years ago?! Did I mean so little? Was our whole childhood, our whole friendship, our dreams and plans; all of it fake?!" she shouted at him.

All the boys stared at her, stunned, but it hit Dipper the worst. He stared at her, wide-eyed, cringing, a few small tears streaming slowly down his cheeks and stubbled chin.

"I, I mean . . ." Mabel sniffled, starting to sob. She looked away. "I'M SORRY, okay? I know that I'm just the dumb twin, that I . . .that I'm good for nothing . . ."

"Mabel, no . . .you're not worthless." Dipper was quick to assure, stunned and rather horrified that she even thought that.

"You're _thinking_ it," she muttered darkly.

Dipper stiffened, gaining an exasperated, desperate look. "No, _you_ are!" he shoots back. "You're putting words in my mouth. I made a mistake, but you're _not_ one! Why won't you just let me help you?!" he demanded, his voice rising to a shout.

For several long moments, they stared at one another; half-glares. Fidds, Ford, and Lee stayed to the side, silent and watchful. After a moment, Mabel's expressed softened, and she let out a half laugh, half hiccup. "Like old times. We'd fight, and then . . ."

"And then we'd make up with one another, even if it took a few years." Dipper followed up with a tired smile.

Mabel stepped towards him, head butting him on the shoulder playfully. "You stole all of my Easter candy, you jerk!" she accused; but she was laughing; they both were, together.

"Yeah, and I made up for it by helping you make the best costume next Halloween! And I gave you most of my candy then!" he shot back playfully, pulling her in for a hug.

"What happened?" Lee asked, looking down when all eyes were suddenly on him. "I only mean, you keep talking about all this stuff that happened thirty and forty years ago, and other stuff that seems to be even before that. Are we allowed to know?" he finished.

Dipper and Mabel glanced at eachother. They really did look identical. Other than the clothes and stubble on Dipper's chin, they looked exactly alike. Except . . . except, when you looked a little closer, you could see one difference, or . . . maybe it counted as two.

Mabel's cheeks had a slight, natural blush to them, just about on the cheekbones. And Dipper had a similar color on his nose. They glanced back to the boys, then both seemed to nod in sync.

"You deserve to know. Gather around." Dipper beckoned. And for a moment, it was almost like looking at the same exact gesture, voice, and face in previous weeks, when Grunkle Abel, who was actually Grauntie Mabel, would have them sit around while "he" told a story about monsters and other things. "He" had seemed . . . almost happy at those times, or at least content.

To see such a familiar gesture from someone so new yet so already-known . . . .it was a bit difficult to deal with.

At that moment, a muted banging sounded throughout the place. All five looked upward, hearing the voices through the monitors. "Oh know, they've found us!" came Fidds' high-pitched cry, voice cracking.

At any other time, Ford and Lee would've teased him for it. Oddly, Grauntie Mabel had always supported and rarely partaken in the teasing of such things. Maybe it had something to do with having a brother and growing up together in those dark days of puberty.

"No, we still have some time, we need to think of a plan!" Grauntie Mabel was quick to reassure.

"Aw man, I was so wrapped up in all the feels of this that I completely forgot about those crummy agents!" Lee piped up, worried and annoyed.

"Forget . . . that's it!" Ford exclaimed, going for his backpack. He pulled out the Mind-Eraser gun they'd gotten on their adventure with Old Man Ramirez.

"Where did you get that?" Dipper snapped, suddenly very anxious and relieved all at once. He snatched it out of the others hands, going for the para-scope that was disguised as the totem pole above ground. He hooked some wires to it and typed in what he wanted, muttering about frequencies. He checked the above-ground before turning and shouting.

"COVER YOUR EARS!" he cried. All were quick to obey. The sound-wave rippled outwards. From the monitors, they could just hear the agents crying out in surprise and pain.  
Afterwards, Grunkle Dipper was hurrying up the stairs with a command of "Stay down here until I signal it's safe. Watch the monitors." before he was in the elevator and gone.

Lee laid a comforting hand on Grauntie Mabel's arm. "Grauntie Mabel," he said, and with such certainty and seriousness that was quite unusual for the wild-child. "Don't worry, okay? We'll get through this, together. Even if you were only a friend of Grunkle Dippers', you'd still be out family. Okay? I promise everything will still be alright." he hugged her then, tightly.

After a moment, Ford and Fidds joined in, and they all shared in a group hug.

For the first time in a long time, Mabel felt like herself for once. Not her brother; not her brother who always succeeded in everything, but herself again; her own, wild, imaginative self, like a more girly version of young Stanley. Stanley and Stanford, whose presence over the summer had reminded her of herself and her own twin, all those years ago.

Ford, always racing off to search out the paranormal and supernatural. Lee, who always found some never-thought-of-way to spice up and enliven the usual bland everyday things. It helped her to become invigorated again, stopping her from falling into another slump of drinking and shutting everyone out during those darker, uncertain months, which happened every five years or so like clockwork.

For once, Mabel was back and loved for being herself.

* * *

 **Okay, so, I didn't exactly do a flashback. I might later on, but I can't help but think that this is better. It's already abundantly clear what Mabel did for her twin; at least, for Dipper. Obviously not to the other three boys, but hopefully it will soon.**

 **I may or may not do a third, final chapter to this. We'll have to wait and see. Enjoy and please review! The more reviews there are, the quicker I am to update! It's motivation and fuel, I live off of your review!**


	20. Deserted - Smebulock!

**Okay, so . . . in short, I'm afraid I'm going to get backed up on requests. Besides the Deserted and Timeskip Au timelines I'm going to be working with, there has been one or two other rewuests so far, besides others I still need to try and complete but haven't had the chance to yet. Plus, I feel like a piece of junk at the moment. Probably sick, which is no fun.**

 **In other words, please bear with me, everyone, if things start slowing down a bit.**

 **Also, has anyone heard of the "Crystal Pines Au" that crosses Gravity Falls with Steven Universe? 'Cause I'm considering opening up a secondary drabble series for oneshots in my own twisted version of it. Not in a bad way sorta twisted, but I tend to do the unexpected with Au's that have a more . . .I don't know how to put it, I just typically work outside of the usual bounds for Au's.**

 **Seriously, just look at my Monster Falls thing "Lurking Shadows"! It's heck crazy and no one's been turned just yet . . . or HAVE they?**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Drabble 20:** Deserted; Smebulock!

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Both Stans end up in a new dimension that, not only is in the future,  
but that is unexpected in more ways than one. But without proper supplies  
and Lee getting feverish from infection, Ford needs to watch his back and  
relearn how to trust others._

 _Plus Lee fighting and facing things he never expected  
to see or encounter. Both will have to relearn how to cooperate  
and become a dynamic duo again if they want to return home . . ._

 **Universe** :  
 _(Kick-off of two different_  
 _and new Au's ["Timeskip"  
and "Deserted", respectively],  
offered by another author.  
Enjoy.)_

 **A`N** :  
 _Here we go, the start of the fun! Let's see where this goes,_  
 _for now. Hm . . .how hard is it to fix an elevator without tools?  
Do gnomes have rabies? How long can one last with a sick  
man and no food, water, or any sort of medical supplies?_

Stanley and Stanford both shouted as they tumbled out of the portal in a tangle of limbs. Ford pulled himself up, glancing back just as the blue glow in the portal flickered out.

He let out a growl and pushed himself to his feet, glancing around to take stock of the situation. The portal was demolished; it lay in a lopsided, half-broken heap. The entire place was a falling-apart mess, with hardly any light to see by, now that the portal had gone out.

"Great, just GREAT!" he grumbled, starting to pace. He was trying to figure out why the portal merely looped them back around after it's destruction when he tripped over something . . . something that _wasn't_ debris.

Wha-?!" he managed, losing his balance and falling on his face. Whatever he'd tripped over let out a soft groan, curling up beneath him.

Sitting up again, Ford squinted in the near-darkness, just making out the shape of his brother, sprawled out on the ground, face down. Crawling closer, he lightly touched his brothers shoulder, about to shake him.

He pulled his hand back almost immediately at the sharp cry, Lee curling in on himself. Digging in his pockets, Ford found a lighter. After a few moments, it flickered to life and he was able to better examine his twin. His right shoulder was badly burned; the hot metal had burned off his coat and shirt around it. Ford felt a flicker of guilt at this, fingers lightly ghosting over the wound, afraid to touch and make it worse.

"Water . . . we need to get some cold water on this . . ." he said aloud.

Lee didn't seem to be completely lucid, his breathing a little to fast and his face a mask of pain.

"Stanley, come'on, get up." Ford ordered him, lightly gripping his other arm. "We've got to get you upstairs so we can treat that burn."

Lee grunted, struggling to push himself upright. With his brothers help, they made their way into the next room, towards the elevator. The symbol that was now branded on his brothers back was gone from the desk. No, not gone; not really. It was there, just no longer glowing hot.

Reaching the elevator, Ford hit the button with his fist. After waiting a minute or two, he hit it again. "Why isn't it working?" he muttered, leaving his brother leaned against the wall as he peered up the elevator shaft. Or, tried too. As he looked beyond the gate, he realized that it was rusty and brittle, the elevator looking in no better condition.

Had the portal really caused this much damage? Managing to wrench the gate open and stepping inside, he realized something else. The door in the roof for the emergency hatch was lying, unhinged, on the floor of the elevator. Jumping and managing to grasp the edge, he hauled himself up, peering up the shaft. There was no light visible at the top. Using his lighter to look around himself, he could see the severed metal cord, broken close to where it attached.

"Bro, hate to bother you, but there's somethin' weird down here." Stanley's voice broke the silence.

It was so unexpected that Ford jumped and nearly lost his balance. Dropping back through the hatch, he walked out of the elevator to find Stanley slumped against the wall. He was peering blearily at something over in one corner of the room, eyelids drooping. Somehow, he'd also gotten his hands on a piece of rusted piping, gripping it loosely.

Ever the more paranoid twin(nowadays), Stanford cautiously approached the corner. When Lee offered him the pipe, he took it, holding it warily in one hand and the lighter in the other. When he got closer, he could make out tiny footprints in the dust and dirt.

"Come out! Show yourself!" he snapped, trying to brandish the pipe menacingly.

For about a minute or so, there was silence, then a small creature limped slowly out from behind a pile of broken concrete and wood. It was a gnome; and a rather familiar one at that. It was dragging one leg, it's hat had several small tears, one arm hung limply at his side while the other clutched at a large splinter of wood as a cane. One eye was swollen shut and from the dried blood on his face and scraggly grey beard he appeared to have had a bloody nose recently.

"Sm. . .Smebulo . . lock . . ." the little thing got out, looking up with unfocused eyes.

"Smebulock . . .?" Ford muttered, thinking back to when he first discovered the gnomes. "Hey, I think I know you. Smebulock Senior, right?"

The gnome shook it's head. "Smeb . . .Smebulock . . . _Junior_ . . ." he corrected. He promptly fell over, legs giving out. He let out a pained cry, one hand trying to push himself up.

Setting down the pipe, Ford scooped the gnome up and turned back to his brother, who was staring at it with an unreadable expression.

"What the _heck_ . . . is that?" Lee asked slowly, as if having to focus hard to get the words out.

"A gnome. And if one got in here, then he might know the way out. I think he fell down the elevator shaft," he nodded towards it. "Which explains how busted up he is now. Other gnomes might come looking for him here. We might be able to convince them to help us out of here."

Stanley stared at him incredulously. "You didn't make a set of emergency stairs? Seriously? UGH!" he groaned, pulling a hand down his face and sinking to the floor.

"Stanley?!" Ford asked, crouching in front of him and laying a hand on his forehead. It was slick with sweat and warm, too warm.

Lee tried to wave him off. "I'm fine, Poindexter," he mumbled, eyes slipping shut. "Jus' . . . jus' give me a minute. . ." His top half buckled over, and he would've ended up sprawled across the floor had Ford not caught him.

"Smebulock . . ." the gnome said, reaching a hand for the lighter and gesturing to be put down.

Ford readjusted his grasp on his unconscious brother, and gently set the gnome down. Smebulock sat with his back to the wall and took the lighter, lighting the flame again, and holding out the small light as far as he could. He tried for an encouraging smile that quickly dissolved into a grimace of pain as he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position.

Trying to be careful of his brother's shoulder, Ford hefted him up and stood again, looking around. The whole place looked like it had been turned upside down, things scattered everywhere. Besides looking very old, like the various rusted metal he'd seen so far. He hadn't been so paranoid and sleep deprived that he let things get this bad, right?

The only place clear of debris was inside the elevator, so Ford hauled his brother in there. Taking off his coat and folding it into a makeshift pillow, he laid Stanley face-down. He had Smebulock stay inside the elevator while he took the lighter and started searching through the lab for anything useful. He didn't find much.

Any spare blankets or sleeping bags were moldy and falling apart, he only found one of three first-aid kits and it was rusty and half-crushed beneath a pile of cement. Even if he got it loose, there was zero guarantee it'd still have anything useful.

A duffel bag stuffed with supplies -for in case he had to run and survive the apocalypse above ground if he couldn't make it to the bunker- was stuck underneath some collapsed beams, rotting, and the only salvageable thing was a tiny metal lantern, a dusty pack of matches and some candles.

He lit a candle and stuck it inside, holding it up to help illuminate the space. The portal was not only broken, but rusted over as well, which didn't make any sense. Unless the energy from the blast had somehow both totaled and sped up time in here, it shouldn't be rusted. And all the cloth items shouldn't be rotting or moldy, either.

With a sigh, he turned back and entered the elevator box on heavy feet, sitting down next to his brother. With the stronger light, he could better see the burn. He almost wished he couldn't. It looked bad, really bad. Hospital-level bad. And here he sat, uselessly, without anyway to fix it. He shivered a little and curled in on himself.

Smebulock was watching him, hugging himself with one arm. "What happened to your arm?" Ford asked, not quite ready, no, _unwilling_ to go to sleep. As he had been for days on end already.

Smebulock looked down at his arm, shrugging the other shoulder. "Smebulock . . ." he got out, pointing up towards the hatch. Ford looked up, spotting a small bit of blue fabric. He looked back down at the gnome quizzically. Smebulock held up the sleeve of his hurt arm. A tear of fabric was gone.

"Wait . . . you fell down here?" he asked.

Smebulock nodded. "Smebulock . . .Smebulock." he nodded to himself, struggling upwards until he was standing. His right leg seemed to twist beneath him, probably sprained if not worse, but his left arm didn't respond or move at all. Just flopped around.

"Oh dear," he muttered, putting it together. "You may've dislocated your arm. Should I try to fix it?" he asked.

Smebulock nodded after a moment, allowing the human to pick him up once more, settling on the ground again as Ford examined his arm. "This looks like it's dislocated. Um, this is going to hurt. On three, alright?" the gnome nodded. Stanford gently moved the arm around so he could move it back into place.

"One, two," he shoved the arm back into it's socket. Smebulock didn't make a sound, surprised. "Three." Stanford muttered. He licked his lips. His mouth felt dry.

The gnome squawked in pain, slowly moving both arms. He finally gave Ford a bit of a look, discomfort, annoyance, but thankfulness, too, before standing and limping to the wall Ford was leaning against. Carefully, he curled into a small ball, mindful of his leg and any other possible injuries.

Ford sighed, reaching out and gently running a hand through Lee's long hair. He couldn't believe the mess they were in. He thought back to the fight they'd had. Sure, they'd fought over stuff in the past, when they were kids, and the worst of them led to Lee getting a cut on his jaw and losing a tooth. Even though his twin had praised him for finally "manning up", he'd still felt guilty over it.

Just like with the burn on his brothers back.

Sighing, Ford looked up at the roof of the metal box. "We'll figure something out." he glanced back down at his brother, face a mask of discomfort, even in sleep. With a soft sigh, he shifted until he was laying next to him, then blew out the candle. No use to waste resources. Reaching over, he gently gripped his brothers hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Together."

For the first time in weeks, Ford felt . . . not exactly at ease, not quite. But . . . secure. Ever since the accident with testing the portal and Fidds quitting the project, he'd felt like he was being watched most of the time. While he didn't exactly feel completely safe now, he definitely felt a lot better with his brother there beside him.

With a weary smile, Ford closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

 **I couldn't help throwing in Smebulock, heh heh. In some ways, he's just . . . in a sense, adorable, if that makes an sense. I guess it's because, whenever I saw him in the show, he seemed like he could use a break or needed some sort of friend. I tend to take canon characters like that and either help them or harass them or both.**

 **Enjoy and please review!**


	21. Faded Colors, Darkened Sun

**Okay, so, this was from a random prompt/quote I found awhile back. Basically inspired this whole Au:**

 **"** When Something Fades in the Sunlight, Where did the Colors Go? **"  
**

 **And then I got . . . _this_ out of all that. *shrug* enjoy, dudes!**

 **)P.S.  
I've figured out how all it all works, despite  
what it says in the A`N below. That was back  
when I was first figuring it out, and I didn't  
want to really tweak it. *shrug*(**

* * *

 **Drabble 21:** Faded Colors, Darkened Sun

* * *

 **Sum** :  
 _Stanley Pines, masquerading as his twin brother Stanford, owner of the Mystery Shack,  
Gravity Falls own Mr. Mystery . . . is blind. Blind ever since he was a little kid.  
And yet . . . he doesn't act it, or even look it. When he mentions off-handedly  
that he wasn't sure what to make of Mabels sweater for him, the colors all shades  
of green, she grows upset, and he starts to grow paranoid that they'll guess his secret._

 **Universe** :  
 _Blind!Stanley Au_

 **A`N** :  
 _Hm . . . not sure how he sees anything. In the Mindscape, leaving most-everything  
shades of grey? By some other means of magic where he simply senses  
everything around him? Not sure yet, need to work on this one a little._

Stanley stared at the thing before him. He wasn't sure what to make of the grey sweater, barely catching the subtle hints and variations of darker and lighter grey in it, barely able to make out the words that are said there. He couldn't help the frown that overtook his face as he tried and failed to puzzle out exactly what picture of message this sweater had.

"Grunkle Stan? What's wrong?" Mabel asks him with a pout. "Don't you like it?" she asks.

Stan quickly makes up an excuse. "Of course I do! I just, er," he quickly thought of something. "With these darn cataracts I'm having trouble making out what it says." he told her.

Mabel brightens again in an instant. "It's a 'Keeping Warm' sweater I made you. For when it gets chilly around here." she explained, handing it to him.

Stan stares down at it blankly for a moment, then smiles widely at his great-nieces face, staring into medium-grey orbs that he knows are brown, darker grey hair he knows is brown, too, just . . . a different shade.

"Thanks, sweetie. Now run along and play or something." he ruffles her hair and shoos her lightly away, going to hang the sweater somewhere in his closet.

He couldn't let her know . . . couldn't let ANYONE know his secret. As soon as Mabel is gone, Stan shuts his eyes and navigates quickly and easily upstairs and into his room, by memory, feel, sound, and simply sensing the objects around him. Only when he needed to solidify and picture an object in his mind did he really open his eyes.

Truth be told, Stanley Pines was blind. Been that way since he was a little kid. However, he always knew exactly what was going on around him; he could just, sense it, and over time, he would sometimes catch glimpses of stuff in a strange, grey-black-white way, where there were no other colors that he knew of; at least, he wasn't sure what the actually looked like, but if someone asked him, he instinctively knew the answer, if not the context behind it.

He'd never really seen color before, as he'd told Mabel awhile back about rainbows. That experience hadn't blinded him, just hurt his eyes made it so he really had to act blind for awhile, stumbling around and using a cane and knocking stuff over. Very frustrating, especially considering that he could still sense everything around him just fine.

He hung the sweater up, feeling it's thick, plush softness before turning around and heading back downstairs. There was only one more tour for today, and then he could rest and relax for a bit.

However, when Dipper came careening around the corner and straight towards Stan, who had paused when he heard the shouting, he didn't think; he acted. Eyes closed, he easily sidestepped and caught the little tramp before he tripped over his own feet. Dipper stared up at him in shock. Had he imagined it? How did Grunkle Stan do it?

Eyes open once more, Stan decides to forgo his "second sight" into the Mindscape or whatever allowed him to see the actual shapes of things, focusing instead on Dipper's voice and the sound of his breathing.

"Watch where you're going, kid." he grumped, lightly ruffling his hat and hair. "I'm not always gonna be conveniently placed to make sure you don't break your neck." a hint of affection slid through, and Stan cleared his throat before walking onwards.

Dipper only stared after him, shrugged, and continued on. As Stan went about with his tour, he couldn't help but think back to his lack of sight. He knew the Shack well enough, inside and out, that he only ever really used his "second sight" thing for when he went into town, or when there was a lot of other people around. He only used it a little here and there on tours, just to make sure the group stayed together, more or less.

Afterwards, as he was starting to close up shop, he felt eyes on him. He ignored it and kept restocking the shelves. Wendy had left and he'd sent Soos home, and the twins were watching some sort of movie in the living room. He ignored the sound of the vending machine opening, then closing again. There are several seconds of silence as he went about his task.

He still felt eyes on him. He waited it out, counting the seconds. About forty seconds in, a hand clapped hard on his shoulder. Stanley yelped in surprise, spinning around and smacking whatever-it-was away, using his other sight swiftly. He frowned upon seeing his brother.

"What do you want, Ford?" he demanded, crossing his arms before bending over to collect the fallen merchandise.

"Are you okay, Stanley?" Stanford asks.

Stanley snorted, straightening up and returning to his previous task. "What makes you think I'm not?" he retorts.

"Well, I waved a hand in front of your face a few times, and you didn't even flinch or acknowledge it's presence."

". . ." Stanley didn't say anything, stunned, but continued stacking. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Lee," Ford started.

"Don't 'Lee' me," he growled, backing away. "I'm _fine_ , alright? Just a long day." He set down the last of them and turned to head upstairs. Ford didn't try to stop him.

* * *

-~o0o0O0o0o~-

* * *

Whenever Ford was around, Lee felt like one of his stupid science experiments. His eyes were nearly burning a hole in his head. Having a sneaking suspicion on what it was about, he started using his other sight, seeing things in black, white, and all shades of grey more often than usual. It was pretty tiring, actually. It took a lot more energy than he thought to keep it up all the time.

It got to the point that he had to finally drop it, suspicions be danged. It had been a few days by then, and thankfully his brother seemed to have lost interest. Allowing him to relax and re-settle into his age-old routine.

Do things by memory and whatever he sensed around him, second sight for detailed or fast-paced things. In fact, everything was going just fine until . . . Mabel and Dipper convinced them all to go on a camping trip. Which, in and of itself, wasn't a completely bad idea. Some time to relax and hang out together. They'd decided to go to Scuttlebutte island, so as to have some privacy and a little adventure. Even Wendy and Soos were tagging along!

The moment they set foot in the campsite, Stanley felt a chill run up his spine. The spot had obviously been used before, and recently; a fire pit was dug and ringed by rocks, some logs had been chopped down to serve as seats, the brush cut back much more than the rest of the surrounding forest to form a small, grass clearing for tents. It wasn't like they were trespassing or anything . . . right?

As they continued to set up camp and gather firewood and other things, Stanley tried to shake the feeling that they were being watched. Listening and nodding along quietly as Wendy told of past camping trips with her family to this "secret" spot and so on. It got to the point that Stanford pulled him aside.

"Lee, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Whaddya mean?" Stanley shot back, shifting from foot to foot.

" _That_ ," Ford gestured to his obvious fidgety-ness. "You've been acting like the Jersey Devil was going to descend from the skies and drag us all to Hell ever since we got here. What gives?" he asked.

Lee shrugged, looking to the side; and at nothing. He wasn't using any sort of sight, and had been doing most-everything by feel up to this point. Seeing as he had been on rowing duty most of the way there, besides hauling some more of the heavier stuff, he'd been allowed to take it easy with his twin while the other four gathered wood and pitched tents.

"It might sound crazy, but this place just feels . . . _wrong_." Lee answered quietly, closing his eyes with a sigh. Nothing but hearing and his other related senses. No sight of any kind; in that moment, he felt something. It was pretty strong, and it seemed to be lurking just behind him. He extended his senses out further, reaching out to try and pinpoint where the mysterious thing was.

Just over there, behind that thicker stand of fir trees. Something was watching and waiting. It made Lee uneasy. Not only could he sense things around himself, he could usually sense the emotions of those around himself. Much easier when it was with people he knew, who were family. Sometimes, people would be simply radiating with some emotion or another, or a whole slew of them.  
He could always sense things like that from a long ways off. Helpful when avoiding angry mobs and the police. And guys named Rico who wanted to kill you.

Suddenly, something cold and wet collided with his face. He cried out and stumbled back, flailing and opening up his second sight. Just in time to trip over a root and topple over.

Wendy stood frozen across the campsite, Mabel and Dipper cracking up near the tents while Soos chuckled a little, though he looked a little more sheepish. Stanford grinned off to the side, holding up an empty packet of water balloons.

Sputtering, Lee rose to his feet, hackles raised and stomping angrily over. "Y-you little-!"

"That's what you get for spacing off, Lee." Ford returned with a smirk, throwing a towel at him when he was close enough.

"I outta punch your lights out." he grumbled, stomping over and taking a seat on one of the logs, drying off with the towel.

"It's your own fault for drifting off mid-conversation. Had you been paying attention, you would've noticed when Wendy missed her shot at your handyman friend." Stanford countered wit ha laugh. He gained a slightly more serious look as he took a seat next to his twin.

"Lee, please, I've known you long enough to tell when somethings' bothering you." he said quieter, watching as the foursome's water-fight wandered further and further from the campsite.

Stanley remained silent, thinking. "I just have a bad feeling about this place. Every since stepping into the clearing, I feel like we've been watched, but I can't tell exactly where from." he admitted.

Ford frowned in thought. "Like. . . like the time we tried traversing deeper in the cave where we found the Stan'owar?" he asked.

Stanley shrugged. "Not exactly . . .I just realized that the place was about to come down. Real fun, having to try to convince and drag your sorry butt outta there." he chuckled a little at the jab, nudging his brother in the side.

Ford didn't laugh. "We coulda died that day, if you hadn't gotten us somewhere safer. As it was, we lost the flashlight and it took the better part of a day for anyone to find us. And yet . . . how did you do it?"

Stanley only eyed him. "Do what?" he asked.

"You pulled us into a spot where the cave-in would reach, and it was pitch-black. I couldn't see a thing, and we hadn't even gone that way yet. How?"

Stanley shifted his gaze to the side. The kids, Soos, and Wendy had moved among the trees, talking, shouting, and laughing. "Don't know, got lucky, I guess." he replied quietly. It sounded feeble even to him.

A scream rang through the stillness. Both Stans' lurched to their feet, racing towards where the cry sounded. Instead they were met with Soos, Wendy, and Mabel, crashing into eachother.

"Where's Dipper?!" Stanley demanded, climbing back to his feet. Mabel jumped into his arms, tears streaming down her face.

"It-it got him . . ." she cried, clinging to his shirt and leaving him little choice but to hold her. Not like he minded or anything.

"What did?" Ford demanded. Mabel only whimpered and hid her face in Stanley's shirt, shaking her head.

"I-I dunno dudes," Soos offered up.

"There's Dipper!" Wendy suddenly shouted, pointing towards the trees. Dipper floated out. His eyes glowed with an ethereal light, a similar aura hovering around him, distorting everything behind and around him. As he entered the clearing, the skies darkened as clouds came in, heavy winds blowing, rain starting to fall. The aura seemed to spread, overtaking the entirely clearing.

The sounds were far off; time seemed to slow; like a movie in slow motion save for themselves.

"This happened to Mabel once before," Wendy hissed quietly to the others. "She got possessed at that old convenience store. After the ghosts left, she was alright, though." the unspoken message was clear enough.

 _Don't hurt him._

"What do you want with us, spirit?" Ford demanded.

Possessed-Dipper frowned, rising a little higher and floating closer. **"** **You should not be here!** **"** he thundered, voice deep and menacing.

* * *

 **Okay, so, *looks around, steps hesitantly forward* I am back. Sortof. Feeling much better than a few days ago. Thankfully. Please review!**


	22. Dipp-Ford-er

**Request from "** Original artimies **":**

 **"** Great new updated chapters. I love how you ended " moons light madness "! And I also have a idea for a new story. A mind swap! Like dippers mind gose in to Lee's mind and vise versa or any other pair , it dosnt matter to me. I hope you like the idea! **"**

 **I like it! Let's try this thing out!**

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 **Drabble 22:** Dipp-Ford-er

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Ford stared down at his hands, stunned. He silently counted the numbed of fingers on each hand.

Four. Each.

He started to tremble, and reached up to readjust his glasses . . . except they weren't there. And yet he could see everything just fine without them. He hears a startled squeak somewhere above him and looks up . . . at himself. At his own startled, confused, half-panicked face, glasses askew and starting to paw at his chest.

". . .ssss. . ." all that escapes what appears to be his own mouth is a hissing noise, jaw working as if trying to speak, but unable too. ". . .Sss . . .S-s-stan?" the voice cracks and his own six-fingered hands goes to cover his own mouth. Ford's not sure what to make of it before realizing who's voice it is.

"Dipper?" he asks in return. He glances back down at his clothes, recognizing them for the twelve-year-olds; shorts, T-shirt, vest. Reaching up a hand, he can feel the blue and white trucker hat resting atop his now-brown locks.

Dipper, somehow in his body now, plucks off the glasses and ran a hand down his face, breathing in sharply. Feeling grey hair, the faint stubble on his chin, peering around half-blind without his glasses. He clutches one hand loosely at the collar of his -Fords'- sweater, breathing becoming heavier.

Ford reached for the boy inexplicably stuck in his body. "Dipper?" he asks softly. Worn, tired brown eyes jerked towards him. Rough, calloused, six-fingered hands were clutching at his chest now, starting to hyperventilate. He takes another bold step forward, grabbing at the hand that was closest. "DIPPER." he raised his voice, trying to shake the kid out of it, but to no avail. He was too short now to do any real good.

". . ." Dipper doesn't respond. Not right away, anyhow. ". . .I can't breathe . . .why can't I breathe . . ." he mumbles.

Ford, stuck in the preteens body, realizes what's going on a moment before it happens; Dipper is having a panic attack. He realizes this just before Dipper's eyes roll up in his head and he goes limp, toppling onto the smaller, half crushing and pinning him beneath his bulk.

Stanford lets out a slew of very naughty words, unused to being so small and helpless, trapped as he is. He can't get free for the life of him. And so, here he is. Stuck at the end of a hallway next to an old closet door. While Stanley runs the tourist trap known as the Mystery Shack and Mabel is off doing who-knows-what. Very little chance that handyman Soos appearing this deep within the Shack, and yelling wasn't guaranteed to be heard, either.

So, he instead tries to work out how they ended up switching bodies. They'd been digging in the closet for an old box of Fords' when his hand had rubbed against something thick and soft. There'd been a small shock of static electricity. He'd yelped, and Dipper had grabbed at his arm. Everything became dizzying and turned upside down for several moments, but that was about when he'd looked up and seen himself.

"Experiment 78, of course. . . ." he mumbles. He strains again to get free, but one of his arms are pinned and the other is more like a noodle. He lets it wave like one for a moment, then grumbles under his breath. "Just great, perfect!" Well, the bright side was they at least knew what caused it, so they should be able to reverse it, as well.

A few minutes of being crushed later, Dipper finally stirs and sits up, rubbing "his" face. He blinks and glances around. Stanford grabs the glasses off the ground and offers them up. Dipper clumsily accepts them, groaning and rubbing his eyes again.

"Okay, not a dream. What just happened?" he asks.

"Well, the electron carpet is in the closet." Stanford replies.

Dipper puts the glasses on and blinks. "Okay then, that explains it. Me and Mabel had a bit of an . . . incident, involving the carpet." he shuddered, then looked down in apparent fascination at his new six-fingered hands.

Ford looked down at his own hands, in turn. "Hm . . .welp, we don't want another incident. Could you drag the carpet out here? I want to take it down to the lab after this."

Dipper started to comply, then grew a sly look and shut the closet door instead. "No."

Ford gawked at him. "No?!" he demanded.

"No." Dipper repeated, grinning. "Come on, let's have some fun with this! Trick Stan or Mabel." he coaxed.

Ford hesitated a long moment, trying to think of every reason why this was a very, very bad idea. Finally, the pull of being a kid again -and normal, at that!- won out, and he nodded. "Only until night fall, and we still near the Shack; understood?" he asked, holding out a hand to shake.

Dipper nodded, extending a six-fingered hand, shaking. "Deal."

This could only end well . . .

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 **So, so sorry that I've been gone awhile! I got soem bad sunburns and could barely get any sleep for a few days straight. But I'm back now and plan on getting caught up on requests and stuff, so please hang in there with me guys!**

 **Please R &R!**


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